Mr John's Storybook
by MisterJohn
Summary: Worm Snippets. Smut, feels, humor. (Warning; kinks found within are not for everyone.)
1. Tiger & Kitten

I looked up at the sky as I walked home. The clouds were beautiful, backlit by the orange hue of the sunset. I sighed, speeding up my steps as I approached my block.

Another day. It hadn't been too bad- Emma has made some loud comments about my appearance, my intelligence, and my complete lack of friends to her minions- enough to maintain her little guise of not talking to me, but still getting the point across. Madison was on yet another trip out of town with her father, probably picking up a tan on a beach somewhere or 'meeting cute guys!' I didn't care enough to find out the where, just the when. She'd be back in two weeks.

It was Sophia that worried me the most. She had been, cliche as it might sound, quiet- too quiet. She wasn't one for cruel comments and spiteful 'pranks.' No, Sophia was physical. Not a day went by without a rough push, a carefully placed foot, or the occasional punch. Never anywhere that would leave obvious bruises, and never hard enough place me in serious danger, but it was constant. While Emma and Madison had off days, times when they'd simply ignore me, and times when they'd be especially vicious, Sophia had a routine.

I think, out of all of them, I hated her the least. While fists _hurt_, they didn't hurt as much as jokes about car crashes. As unsettling as it was to think about, her brand of bullying was actually reassuring compared to Emma's carefully chosen insults. I'd receive an ankle-hook and tumble to the floor, Sophia would stand over me and smirk, and then she'd go on her way. That was it.

I still wanted to punch her smug little face in, of course, but I'd take a dozen Sophia's over Emma any-day. She was as reliable as clockwork. Thus, when she failed to so much as brush by me in the halls, I got scared. The last time she'd gone quiet...

Well. The locker wasn't a good precedent.

By the time I'd finished worrying myself sick over the possibilities and contemplating going to the police for the hundredth time this week, I was home. Avoiding the squeaky step on my way up the stairs to the front door, I was inside and making myself a sandwich within a minute. Dad wouldn't be home until late tonight- another long evening spent slaving over the books down at the docks, desperately trying to change the numbers through sheer will alone. He didn't talk to me about it, but I heard him on the phone at times, commiserating with friends about the horrible state of affairs and the latest batch of workers that had moved away or fallen to crime. It was sad, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Finishing my sandwich, I made my way up the stairway to my room slowly, fishing my homework out of my bag as I went. I may not get all of it turned in, thanks to the terrible trio, but every bit helped-

My bag hit the floor as I struggled to comprehend the scene before me. As I stared in shock, Sophia looked up and grinned a wide, pearly-white smile.

-

The first thing I noticed- after the fact that _Sophia was in my __**house**__, Sophia was in my __**room**_\- was her clothes. She wasn't in the jeans and overly tight t-shirt that I saw every day in school. Instead, she had a sweater with a plunging neckline that formed that v-shape that made it abundantly clear she had cleavage, along with a skirt.

Sophia didn't do skirts. Sophia didn't do anything other than slacks and jeans, period. Even Madison, the Queen of the Sexy Mini-skirt, hadn't managed to convince Sophia to so much as try one on. I had heard this from Madison herself- an offhand comment led to a near-fight between Sophia and Madison about the very same topic. It was one of the few times I had managed to slip away from them after being caught. So why was she wearing one now, in my _house_ if all places- oh, and there was the terror I had managed to briefly displace with my tangent.

Sophia was in my room. The one security that I had- the one place I could go to escape the trio with complete certainty that I was safe- was being ripped away from me in front of my eyes. She had broken in to my sanctuary, utterly destroyed my final place of comfort. I felt... Violated.

She was talking, but I wasn't paying any attention. I whipped my head about, trying to see if she had touched anything- and for the most part, it looked like she hadn't. Only one thing was out of place- the door to my closet. But the only things of value in there...

Were my notebooks.

As my eyes snapped back to Sophia, I noticed one little detail I hadn't before- the spiral-bound pages on her lap. I only had a brief moment of relief- the coded, larger book of plans for my cape life was in the basement, after a long night of directing spiders- but the notes she had were almost as bad. The first book was my account of every single little assault I had suffered for almost a year and a half, now. Every taunt, every push, every piece of damage, up to and including the locker. If she destroyed that, most of my case went down the drain. And the other book...

That was my revenge notebook. All my research, all the different plans for involving the police, the school board, even the childish revenge fantasies wherein I imagined using the evidence to blackmail the trio into being my slaves and worse, it was in there. And it was the one she had been reading as I entered.

Panic and adrenaline were coursing through my veins with every heartbeat. Sophia was still talking, though I couldn't hear anything beyond my blood pounding in my ears. There wasn't any way out of this. She had the key pieces, and she was stronger, more athletic, and overall the obvious winner in a fight. I couldn't get them back.

But I had to try.

The four steps between Sophia's seat-my bed-and the door disappeared near-instantly to my eyes. One second, Sophia was smirking as she said _something_, and the next her startled face was right in front of mine- before my fist smashed into her nose. Later, when I thought of this moment, I would assume that the sheer surprise Sophia felt when I finally chose to get physical was enough to stun her momentarily. Unfortunately, she wasn't stunned for long.

The next few moments passed in a red haze. When I came to, I was pinned to the floor with my hands over my head, and Sophia was sitting on top of me. One of my eyes hurt beyond belief, and Sophia's grip was near-crushing, but her nose was bent out of shape and she had a split lip.

She was also smiling wider than I had ever seen from her.

As I struggled futilely against her hold, she repositioned me as easily as I might move a baby. Her hands came together above my head, and the separate grips became one. Her now-free left hand lifted up and felt her nose. When it came away red with blood, her smile only got wider.

After that quick expenditure of energy, I was starting to come back to my senses- and the terror was returning. I had just punched Sophia in the face. I had punched Sophia in the face, and broken her nose. As her bloody hand slowly lowered, I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see the revenge hit coming.

When my face didn't immediately explode with pain, I became confused. The feather-light stroking of my cheek didn't help.

Sophia was touching- no, Sophia was _caressing_ my face. With her dripping, wet hand. I shivered in disgust, my eyes still clenched firmly shut. Of course, that just prompted a laugh from my tormentor- and that brought the earlier rage back. Given the situation, I then did something incredibly stupid- I snapped my teeth at her fingers.

She was quicker than I was, and pulled back moments before I would've taken off her fingernails. The gasp of surprise was expected. The second laugh was not.

The kiss? That was _really_ unexpected.

My eyes flew open in shock. Sophia was kissing me- well, Sophia was raping my mouth. Her tongue was inside before I could do more than flinch, and then I was distracted with a whole new set of problems.

I had never kissed anyone before that. Well, Emma and I had kissed as children, but a full-on tongue-party like Sophia was pulling on me? I had never experienced it before. It was completely new- and pretty damn awesome. The endorphins running through me made everything more sensitive, and when I instinctively pressed against her to kiss her back, her moan sent shivers down my spine. There was a good ten seconds where the outside world faded, and all I could focus on was the kiss.

When she pulled back, we were both breathing heavily, and I was much more aware of our positioning. Sophia's sweater had been torn, and the front was hanging open, giving me a close-up view of her bra that many boys at our school would kill for. My shirt had ridden up pretty damn high, and everything below my chest was exposed to the world- and I could definitely feel the rub of Sophia's panties against my stomach.

More importantly, Sophia's grip had loosened. I took a moment to catch my breath as I stared Sophia in the eye.

Then I flipped us.

-

Sophia had not been ready for the surge of activity. Within seconds, her back was on the ground. I had her arms pinned, but it wasn't good enough. She had been strong enough to hold both of my arms down with one of hers- I seriously doubted that I could hold her if she didn't want to be held.

So I cheated.

I was currently 'sitting' between her thighs. It was more of a kneeling position, with her legs splayed across the sides of mine. I loomed over her, holding her wrists above her in much the same way she had me. Luckily, Sophia was actually a good couple of inches shorter than me. Only my slumped stance had kept us at a near-even level at school-but here, she had needed to actually sit on top of me for the reach needed to keep my hands above my head. I didn't need that extra space. In fact, I was perfectly positioned to pull off my distraction.

It was partially fueled by the kiss-okay, mostly fueled-but I needed time to put her down. We had rolled right up next to my bedside desk, on my left, and the cord for my alarm clock was well within reaching distance. But to actually grab it, pull it out of the wall, and wrap it around her hands would take far longer than I had. Even as I planned this out in the space of seconds, Sophia was blinking some sense back into her eyes. Therefore, the distraction.

I pressed forward with my hips, and ground the front of my crotch against Sophia's panties. Simultaneously, I dropped my head, and bit down on the hard, cloth-covered nub nearly poking a hole in her bra.

Sophia damn near shrieked. Her back arched up against me, her fists clenched, and her legs curled around mine in a _very_ firm hold. All in all, by the time she recovered from it, I had a nice neat knot keeping her wrists together with part of the extension cord.

I was also panting pretty heavily. I had just driven an incredibly attractive girl into a fit, she was still moaning, and I swear I could feel the dampness through my jeans. I was having a really tough time not reaching for my own zipper.

As I caught my breath and the arousal faded, however, I started to shake. I had Sophia tied down beneath me. I had _Sophia Hess_ tied down beneath me. I had _Sophia Hess_, one of my main tormentors, and someone I pretty much despised tied down beneath me.

I was also running high on the cocktail of chemicals that had to be running through my body. I wasn't in the best state of mind- hell, part of me demanded that I skip over the whole 'hated nemesis' bit and go straight into ravishing the cute, panting girl who was literally at my mercy.

Another part of me demanded I smash my fist into Sophia's face a couple more times. She really, really deserved it. Maybe a few more bruises would straighten her out?

And finally, the majority of me was freaking the hell out. Sophia was in my room, Sophia had seen my books, I had punched her, what if she took this to court Emma's dad would devastate us but she kissed me but now she's tied up and I practically _raped_ her and that look she's giving me isn't helping at all-

"Going to untie me anytime soon, Hebert?" Sophia seemed almost... _mellow_. She was definitely more relaxed than I'd ever seen her before. Once again, I was partially proud, pissed, and terrified of this statement.

Only this time, angry won.

"No. No, I don't think I am. You broke into my home, and you aren't going anywhere until I get an explanation." Sophia finally seems to lose some of that calm. Not enough to really be angry, but she's definitely annoyed.

"Fine. Emma talked about your house, yesterday. Said it was a dump. I left after lunch for a meeting, and decided to walk back to my place after. Walk wasn't too far from your house, decided to come by, and looked through your room-" my slap caught her entirely off-balance. It surprised me as well, but just the thought of Sophia just deciding to rummage through my room like it was no big deal made me so _angry._.

Sophia only looked shocked for a few seconds before that weird smirk returned.

"Anyways, I found your plans. And Jesus Christ, Hebert, I was so fucking wrong about you it's hilarious."

What.

"There are two kinds of people, Hebert. Predators and prey. And here I thought you were the weakest kind of prey there was- wouldn't even fight back to save itself. Instead, you were fucking gathering evidence. You wrote down every little fucking thing, and then you made up ways to bring down the wrath of fucking God down on us. I saw the _other_ plans, too. Who knew Hebert was such a pervert?"

Oh fuck. I knew the blackmail plans would come back to haunt me. I had experimented with Emma once or twice, sure, and all three girls of the trio were hot in their own way- preppy Madison, the blond/blue eyed perfect student, model Emma who knew _exactly_ how to wear the latest fashion, and dusky Sophia. Who had the lean, muscled body of a track star. What kind of person wouldn't find the idea of such a spread serving their every whim incredibly arousing?

"You just gave me the best orgasm I've had since, fuck, I don't even know, don't blush like a fucking virgin! You're a predator, Hebert, and I didn't even notice until I fucking tripped over it! If you hesitant on me now-"

Before I even think about it, I reach down and take the nipple I bit between my thumb and finger and twist. Sophia breaks off in the middle of her sentence with moan, and I quietly freak out over actually doing that.

"...Here's the deal, Hebert. You don't pull out your shit, and I get Emma and Mads to back down."

This time, I don't just twist, I twist and pull. Hard. Sophia convulses with a breathy squeak that she strangles in less than a second.

"Really? You actually think that I'm going to give up just because you saw it? I've got enough 'shit' to drown all three of you in trouble. Why should I back down? In fact, why shouldn't I go to the cops right now? Breaking and entering is a pretty serious crime..." Sophia takes several seconds to get her breathing under control, but when she does, her smirk returns.

"I'm not stupid, Hebert. You had plans to get video, but right now, all you have is your word and writing. And don't even try to talk about the cops with me- who's tied up and soaking in her own juices, here? Your dad ain't exactly rich, either. And court case is going to cost you money you don't have, especially with such shitty evidence and Emma's dad on our side. The best you're gonna get is me telling them to hold off." This time I switch nipples, giving the other clothed peak some attention as well. Sophia is more than happy to push against my fingers. The first time I twisted her was to punish her. Now it's partly to punish her, and partly because I _really really_ like how she's writhing and panting.

The next minute is weird. Part of it is spent contemplating going to the police about the girl I currently have moaning beneath me, and part of it is spent contemplating the fact that I have Sophia Hess beneath me and I'm toying with her nipples.

Jesus Christ.

Most annoying is the fact that she's right. Anything I try to do will cost me I just as much as it'll cost them. The entire point of this was to get them to stop- the revenge was a nice bonus. If I have the chance...

"Fine. I won't take this to court, and you get the other two to stop. No messing around with the deal- we both know what I mean. Now, it's time for you to leave."

I stand up, then bend over and almost drag Sophia up to her feet. I drag her to the front door by the cord- my alarm drags on the ground, but at the moment I couldn't care less. By the time I've reached the door, Sophia has regained some semblance of reason.

"Wait, wait! Are you seriously gonna just push me out there like this?!"

I take a moment to look Sophia over, and it's very apparent what her problem is. Her sweater is ripped almost clean through, and her bra is doing a pretty bad job of covering up her nipples. Her skirt has ridden up her sides, and Sophia's uncomfortable shifting at my appraising gaze gives me glimpses of her _very_ wet panties.

Suddenly, a wicked thought comes to mind, and I can't resist. Get her wound up, then push her out there without a finish. After such a surreal evening, what's one more dirty deed to add to the list?

"You're right, Sophia." I practically purr the words. "I suppose I can't just leave you like this..." Twirling her around, I have her pressed up against the back of the front door in moments. Pressing against her, I trail one hand up and down her bare leg, slowly working my way inwards. With the other hand, I slowly untie the cord. Sophia shivers, biting her lip in an effort to keep quiet when I finally reach the end of my journey. I rub gently against her center through the panties, then push ever so slightly inwards. She gasps, her eyelids fluttering, and I finally pull off the last of the cord-

The next thing I know, I'm on the floor. Sophia is once again on top of me, and is doing her best to suffocate me with her tongue. She also has one hand up my shirt, squeezing my breast almost painfully, while her other hand slips down the front of my pants and immediately curls over my mound to rub against me. Sophia is less than patient- a moment later, the rubbing becomes penetration, and her fingers twist and scissor inside me. I'm tensing up in seconds, and I ride out the best orgasm I've ever had.

Seriously. No masturbation could compare to this.

When it's done, I'm left panting on the floor. Sophia finishes the kiss, and pulls back. Slipping her fingers out of me in one quick motion, she brings them up between us, rubbing them together to show off the sticky wetness that's caught there.

She then sucks them into her mouth. I twitch. She acts as though it's delicious-, closing her eyes and making audible sucking noises, humming in apparent delight.

It's way too soon for me to be getting aroused again.

Of course, as soon as she finishes, I realize that it's the same hand that was originally covered in blood. Somehow, this fails to kill my buzz. Of course, it isn't helped by the way that she stands up, shimmies out of her panties, and drops them onto my face with a smirk.

"Remember, Hebert, you aren't the only one who likes to be on top."  
She's out the door in seconds, leaving me behind in a puddle of cum with wet panties on my nose.

I slowly stand, make my way upstairs, drop the panties off on my bed, and move into the bathroom.

I then proceed to vomit as the incredible tension decides to release.

I fucked Sophia Hess.  
But somehow, that's a good thing?  
No more terrible trio, anyway. And the sex was great.  
I think I'll just count today as an overall win, and hope that Sophia wasn't lying.

...and now I won't be able to sleep tonight, worrying about wether or not she's telling the truth.


	2. Tiger & Kitten 2

I didn't go to school the next day.

Dad came home late. One twenty three in the morning, my now slightly-beat-up clock told me. He went to bed almost immediately.

Meanwhile, I stared at my ceiling.

My mind ran in circles. Sophia had broken into my room. I had punched Sophia. I had some weird, machoistic form of sex with Sophia. Sophia had promised to get the trio to back off. Sophia had fucked me back, and then left her panties on my face.

I had put the panties into the back of my closet, along with the notebooks. Thinking of the notebooks brought my thoughts right back around to the fact that Sophia had broken into my house and read them, and the cycle began again.

I passed out at some point. I don't know when. The adrenalin crash and the late hour finally overcame my frantically worried thoughts.

When I woke up, it was well past noon. I also felt better than I had in a long while; orgasms are good stress relievers. Dad had left a note in the kitchen- I had refused to be woken up, and dad had decided to let me sleep. He also wanted an explanation for my black eye, and he expected me to go to school tomorrow.

I decided that I was too mellow to deal with thoughts of seeing the trio at school tomorrow, so I made some quick ramen for lunch. Unfortunately, eating the ramen woke my stomach up- and it most definitely wanted more. I had eaten another bowl of ramen, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and two meat-and-cheese sandwiches by the time I was done. Of course, by this point my previously ignored eye was aching painfully, so I grabbed a bag of ice and did what I always did when I wanted to avoid thinking about how much my life sucked.

I worked on becoming a superhero.

The spiders I had left in the basement had suffered some casualties when I wasn't around to suppress their instincts, as usual, but it hadn't been too bad. A jog outside would let me gather enough to replace them easily. But for now, I stripped off my clothes, pulled on the beginnings of my spider-silk gloves and shoes, sat down in a chair I had rescued from a dumpster, leaned back, closed my eyes and had hundreds of black widows crawl all over my body in a horrific substitute for actual measuring equipment/dummy.

I couldn't completely suppress the shudder that ran through me as hundreds of tiny legs skittered up and down my nude body. It had taken a ridiculous amount of practice to get this far without shivering in disgust and instinctual terror. Intellectually, I knew the spiders were under my complete control, but the hindbrain doesn't care about that. It cares about all the completely lethal threats crawling over my body.

Still, sacrifices had to be made. I couldn't make a costume that fit without knowing all the important fiddly little details, and I couldn't effectively measure those little details with a variety of equipment. A simple cloth tape measure would suffice for almost everything, of course, but it wouldn't be as precise as I'd want it. Especially if I had to direct the spiders to make it on the ground, or on a hook, or just about anything else. Instead, I had them weave it directly on my body.

It wasn't easy. One of the biggest problems was putting it all together- I could focus only so many spiders onto my limbs before crowding made them ineffective. The actual weaving was done in shifts, with spiders exhausting their spinnerets and moving away to let other spiders pick up their lines. One of the benefits of this was a near-skintight suit. Unfortunately, one of the drawbacks of this was that it was a near-skintight suit. It was a close enough weave that when I finished the first part of the boots and had reached just above my ankles- and the joint there had been a _bitch_ to work around enough to allow for easy slipping into it, without having too much loose silk- I had been forced to pull out a section of my body hair.

I hadn't even thought of the hair getting in the way, and had ended up weaving it into the silk. Pulling those boots off was one of the most painful things I've ever done. Needless to say, I started to shave everywhere on my body near religiously after that harrowing experience. It seemed to be working- this was the fourth rendition of my costume. Weaving with spiders was hard, and due to the process making mistakes wasn't fixable. I couldn't take the suit apart after I had put it together, and the earlier three glove-boot combos I had started, only to mess up, were currently sitting in a corner.

This time, though, I had practiced enough to get it right! I would continue on past my knees and shoulders- the current limits of my expertise- and make a full costume! I would-

As the boots slowly worked their way up my thighs, a lone spider finally made the trek across my folds, and production stuttered to a halt as I dealt with the tickling.

That had felt entirely too good. Obviously I was still sensitive from yesterday, and I should just ignore it, and I'm having a horrible idea.

It took me several seconds of arguing with myself- what could it hurt? _Well, it's a black widow spider, so it could hurt a WHOLE DAMN BUNCH_\- except I've never lost control. Not once. _What part of 'dangerously lethal' do you not get!?_\- but by the end of it, I was as convinced as I was going to be. I paused the motion of all the spiders I had working, and very carefully sent one scurrying across me once again.

It felt like little pinpricks of fire, tingling and leaving me aching for more. Unable to resist, I sent the spider across once more, and again, until I finally had it simply dancing atop the now-glistening flesh. It wasn't enough.

Soon enough, I had spiders running across my skin- and in this new, delightful context, it was far from disgusting. My entire body felt like it was being gently brushed against, as if a troupe of painters had decided to worship me. Spiders pulled at my nipples with my direction, and the twisting fire of lust in my gut only increased. It wasn't enough- I needed something _in_ me, and shamefully enough it was only the fact that I'd probably crush the things that kept me from trying out a spider. Instead, I had to settle for a hand.

Reaching down, I cleared the spiders away just fast enough to keep them from being smashed as I immediately pushed in- and gasped in delight. I had been working with spider silk for days now. I was perfectly aware of the fact that it was delightfully soft, but seeing as I'd been covered in spiders every time is had it on and had mostly focused on that little distracting detail, it hadn't really occurred to me how good it felt. I was making up for that lack of knowledge right now.

My fingers slipped in with ease. The feeling of silk was entirely new, and very, very pleasant. The silk was liquid-proof, so my juices couldn't soak in- and with the combined slickness and nigh-frictionless material, my digits damn near glided into me. Before I knew it, I was knuckle deep and pumping as hard as I could.

Here, however, the same lack of friction was punishing me. I couldn't build up heat, couldn't work it as well as I could with my bare fingers- I was simply pushing in and out. So I improvised.

Before now, I hadn't been hard to please. Two fingers, rubbing against my clit and a bit of nipple pinching was enough to get me off. Not with this. So, I made up for quality with quantity. Three fingers was more than I had ever tried before, and it stretched me in the best of ways. Instead of simply pumping in and out I mixed it up. Imitating Sophia, I scissored my fingers open and closed, curled them up and stroked my inner walls, and generally did my best to send myself into orgasm.

It worked. Before long I was clenching around my fingers, hissing out my breath through clenched teeth, and practically ripping my nipple off with my other hand.

Man, Sophia knew how to do it. Why hadn't I tried this before?

-

Dad came home around nine, I told him I had gotten into a fight with some prick down at the Boardwalk and dealt with his minor panic attack. By that time the bodysuit was nearing completion, and I found out how I'd fucked up. There was such a thing as too skin-tight, and I had passed by that a while ago. I didn't just have a camel-toe in the thing- I had silk outlining every single bit of my slit. I had very visible bumps perched atop my breasts as well.

It looked like I'd have to loosen up the fabric yet again. The entire day had been a waste of time.

Well. Almost the entire day. I'd messed around more than once, and it turns out that silk is a horrible torture device. Enough to let pressure and heat through, but soft enough that it takes real creativity to work around. In similar news, the bodysuit was absolute torture to try and masturbate in. I could rub, but the silk wasn't stretchy enough for actual penetration, nor did it translate the rubbing very well with it's stupid-soft feeling.

I had started on my next attempt, and was generally feeling pretty damn good about myself as I went to bed. I would have to deal with Sophia tomorrow, but several orgasms were enough to blunt any worry I might have felt.

It was a rather happy, if tired, Taylor Hebert that fell asleep.

-

School was nice.

That statement felt really damn weird just to think, but it was true.

Nobody bothered me. Emma stared at me every time she was within sight with the cutest mix of astonishment, curiosity, and a little bit of fear. All of the hanger-ons felt the shift, and avoided me as well. I went throughout the day without hearing a single mean comment, no pranks, no activity at all from her. If there was a paradise in high-school, this might've been it- if it weren't for one niggling little detail.

Sophia.

She followed me everywhere. It wasn't close enough to draw attention. But she'd always be somewhere behind me. She kept on _watching_, often with that creepy smirk from two days ago. It was only highlighted by the spectacular bruising she had from her nose. Apparently, I hadn't quite broken it, but it was a close thing- or at least, that's what school gossip proclaimed.

It was freaking me out. What did she want? What did she want from me? I just wanted some peace!

That was the reason I slipped out a back door once lunch started. I couldn't take it- I wanted to get away from her stares. I sat against a brick wall, eating and staring at the clouds, reveling in my solitude.

"Damn, Hebert. You almost got away from me."

I admit it, I _almost_ shrieked like a four-year-old. I did tense up hard enough for it to hurt. My heart was pounding in my chest, and it took several seconds of deep breathing before I could slowly twist my head to stare at Sophia.

She had that fucking smirk again. I wanted to punch it.

"I've thought about it. You're a fucking ambush predator. You got enough evidence to try and put us down, and then got some more. You were gonna ruin us- and when I stopped it, you moved on. I ruined the ambush, so you did the smart thing and gave up on it, instead of charging into a trap to try and hurt us anyway. And now you just stalk around the school, fucking ignoring everyone like they're below you-"

Punching Sophia feels _good_. Even if I know she has to be allowing it. Still, a sock to the gut leaves her bent over long enough for me to pin her to a wall. She doesn't even look phased, just keeping that fucking smirk on and _letting_ me hold her. And that just makes me even angrier.

"You think I _want_ to be alone!? It's all your fault I don't have any friends in the first place! Thanks to you, everyone was too scared to so much as say 'hello' to me! _You_ are the reason I don't have a single person to hang out with!" I practically growl the words into her face. Her smirk just grows and I barely restrain myself from attempting to break her nose again.

"You're doing pretty damn good on your own, Hebert. I know you know that I was following you- I saw the kids who tried to apologize. You just fucking looked down your nose at them, and made them run away with their tails between their legs. You-" I release her arms just long enough to get another punch in to her stomach, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. Her hands curl around her instinctively, and I press forward, pinning them against her with a hand and the weight of my body. My other hand wraps around her neck.

"They were completely useless when I needed the help. They just stood by and let you do anything you wanted! They're completely _worthless_! I will not go crawling to the first set of idiots who try to cover their asses with lies and 'sorry's!" I'm actually panting by the time I'm done with that rant. Sophia is outright grinning now, even as I tighten my grip on her neck. I'm really tempted to go for another punch-

And then my back is against the wall, and I'm the one being held down. The way she moved so fast, and is barely even straining to keep me pinned, even as I throw all of my weight at her, makes abundantly clear what I already knew- she was letting me hit her.

"You're a tiger, Hebert. You stalk, you attack when they-we-would've least expected it. And you're perfectly fine without a pack, walking through the halls like you fucking own them." She's practically moaning this last bit out, and she's rubbing against me in a very distracting manner. I take a moment to catch my breath.

"If I'm a tiger, what does that make you? What kind of animal do you think of yourself as, in your messed-up predator-prey thing?" Sophia doesn't even hesitate. She answers fast enough that she must've been expecting this question.

"I'm a fucking lion, Hebert. I'm the leader of the entire fucking pride, and I _take_ what I want!"

And then she's kissing me. It's just as nice as I remember, the way she presses against me, the way she closes her eyes and puts her all into it. Especially the way she loosens her grip as she gets distracted. A rough push forward and we're back in the same position as we were at my house, with me hovering over her. Sophia is flushed, breathing heavily, and entirely too cute, trapped beneath me. As I stare down at her, it finally hits me- _this_ is why I was able to tie her down. She's stronger than me, but when she ends up excited, all that strength disappears with her distraction.

So I take advantage of it.

"You don't _look_ like a lion right now, Sophia." I end the statement by slipping a hand into her pants, rubbing up against her cloth-covered slit with my palm. She lets out a loud-too loud-moan, and I cover her mouth with my other hand. Her fingers go from clawing at the ground to grabbing my wrists with a near-painful grip, which only grows tighter as I make slow circles with my palm.

"In fact, you look adorable beneath me. I think you're more of a kitten right now." She actually focuses somewhat, angry, and starts to move my hand from her mouth- only to lose that clarity as soon as I push the bridge of her panties to the side and stroke the curve of her pussy with one finger, then two. My thumb comes down to grind her clit- at this point, she's actively pushing her hips up while pulling down with her grip on my hand. I can feel the muffled whimpers through my palm.

The feeling of having Sophia whining in need beneath me is incredible. The only way this could get any better...

I cease my movements- Sophia's eyes flutter open as she tries to force me to resume with her hold on my hand- but she's much to distracted right now to give it her all. I take a few seconds to make sure I have her attention- then I move my grip from her mouth to her throat and lean in.

"You want more, kitten? Then ask me for it. Ask me to rub your pussy. Beg me-beg Taylor-for it." The demand has Sophia focusing faster, and she starts to actually begin pulling my hands away. That stops as soon as I press down with the pad of my thumb and scrape across her button- she dissolves into panting and weak tugs on my wrists.

"Fuck... You... Heb-AAAAHH!" Sophia is loud. Loud and stubborn. It takes several more loops of attempted resistance, pleasure, and so on before she gives in. At this point, her hands have returned to clawing at the ground, no doubt ruining her nails beyond repair. My hand is soaked, and there's a giant wet spot spreading along her jeans. I'm careful not to overdo it- Sophia needs to ask before I finish her. Lunch ended a good while ago. When she gives in, I'm pretty relieved- I don't soak my clothing as easily as Sophia, but after all this, there's a large wet spot of my own making on my underwear. If it kept on much longer I'd end up with a stain on my pants as well.

"Fucking.. FINE! P-pl... PLEASE! Please rub my pussy, Tay-Tiger! Please, oh fuck, fuck me hard, Tiger!" It's not exactly what I wanted, but it's close enough. I could get used to a nickname like Tiger. Especially if I heard it from a writhing Sophia. I push inwards with my fingers, pressing three inside her right up to my knuckles before wiggling them in a wave-like motion as fast and hard as I can.

She screams. Sophia announces her orgasm to the entire school with great enthusiasm and deceptively big lungs for a girl her size. I cut it off after a second of shock by tightening down my grip on her throat, but that just seems to increase her pleasure. She's whipping around on the ground, almost convulsing as she wheezes with her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Holy crap. I don't enjoy my orgasms nearly that much. I'm actually kind of jealous- but mostly I want to pull down my pants, shove her hand into my crotch and demand that she please me. Now isn't the time for that, though- I'm already really, really late for class, and while I'm sure Sophia the track star can get away with it, I'm not that popular. Plus, I want to just leave her here after completely dominating her-and wasn't that such a nice thought, completely dominating Sophia-while using her for pleasure would give her a kind of power. Instead, I pulled back, releasing her throat and slipping my hand out of her pants, leaving her glassy-eyed and panting on the grass. I study my fingers- they actually glisten in the light, they're so wet.

Luckily, I have a solution for that.

I take Sophia's chin in my clean hand, pull her head towards me, and shove my fingers into her mouth. She instinctively closes her lips and begins to suck- I have to suppress a moan of my own when she starts to lick. I take a moment just to enjoy the sensations, then reluctantly pull my digits away. Sophia tries to hang on- the last one leaves her mouth with a pop and a whimper.

She's so adorable like this.

"Bye, kitten. I'll see you soon!" I finally stand up, just as Sophia begins to regain her senses.

"F-fuck... You.. Hebert..." I actually snort. I wish she had. Walking away, I leave Sophia there to rest.

...Tiger, huh? I could work with that. I'd have to stop by the boardwalk on the way home.

-

The next day at school, I show up in an orange t-shirt with black stripes.

Sophia took one look at me and turned right around to walk in the other direction.


	3. Tiger & Kitten 3

Sophia didn't stay away for long.

The day I wore the striped shirt to school was a Friday. A long weekend of laziness, a small amount of homework and way too much assisted masturbation in the basement, tied together with my new, bully-free status did wonders for my stress. It turns out that making a not-skintight suit was much more difficult than a tight one- I had to account for slack, both as I worked on it and where I wanted that slack to be further in. After the first failure, one that ended up sagging on me in all the wrong places, I rationed the silk much more stringently. I had a limited number of spiders, and if I depleted the local population by working them to death I'd have to go further and further to gather more. In the end, experimentation lead me to a couple of interesting discoveries.

The first one was that I had been _severely_ underestimating the strength of the silk. I heard bullet-proof, but I hadn't taken into account the actual details beyond 'I can do this!' My first experimental creation was a light, eight-layer glove. My original suits had been layered down tightly, in stacks of twenty or more. That glove? It took a lot of pulling before I could so much as tear it. Going back and taking a pair of wire cutters to my original gloves revealed that once I was finished, I could probably take a sword to the face and fail to bleed.

After that, I went a little bit crazy with the stuff.

I messed around with ropes, cloth, and clothing. A double corded skein of silk (or threads wrapped around threads to form a rope, then wrapping those ropes around more ropes) wasn't hard to make. The thinnest one I created was only a little above half an inch in diameter, but it took my entire weight easily and endured five minutes of hacking with the aforementioned wire cutters before I could even see the start of a tear. Actual cloth weaving meant I could create blankets capable of acting like incredible heat retainers that were mild flame retardant and could hold under the strain of hundreds of pounds- and all of it could fit in a pocket, neatly folded.

When I started with the clothes? Well, I hadn't ever been one for excessive shopping, and had been annoyed more often than excited when Emma had dragged me around to look at 'the cutest dress!' when we were still friends. This, however? Weaving my own clothes? This was fantastic!

I started off simple- robes. I made two versions, with plans for a third once my production rate could handle it. The first one was fairly thin, with fifteen layers. It was light enough that I felt uncomfortable wearing it with anything less than full clothes on beneath. When I first tried it out, naked, I had to constantly glance down to remind myself that I was actually wearing something. The planned one was going to be a whopping seventy-five layers thick- it would be heavier than regular street clothes at that point, but still lighter than any non-synthetic material used to as clothes. With numerous folds planned, I expected to be able to take burst fire from a fairly high-caliber gun and make it out with nothing more than bruises! I would soak in damage from small arms fire like they were pellets! I would be able to freaking stop any kind of bladed weapon cold!

...but that was in the future. Right now, though, my third robe? It was amongst the lightest pieces I'd pulled together, at only six layers. And wearing it nude was an experience like no other. The cloth was so light on my skin I honestly wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between wearing it and not wearing it. It was _almost_ see-through. If it laid flat against my skin you could see the difference in color as my flesh pressed against it, and due to my inexperience with such a light weave there were parts that hadn't come together tightly, forming patches where it _was_ transparent. The whole thing was so light that the smallest breeze would send it fluttering like mad, and simply waving my arms shifted the whole thing. It straddled the line between 'technically covering all the necessary parts' and 'was that a nipple? I'm pretty sure that was a nipple.'

I had to retire that one. I didn't want my hero-ing to start with being arrested by the legal heroes for public indecency.

I had made a single pair of pants that were effectively business slacks with very small pockets. Two kinds of shirts had been created- the t-shirt and a t-shirt that made it abundantly clear that I wasn't wearing a bra. Even with my low bust size. The second had been my first try at actual clothing, thicker than the robe but still too thin. My last creations were also my favorite.

Namely, accessories and underwear.

I tried out all different kinds of the stuff. Regular panties, men's briefs, and a couple of daring thongs that looked more like triangles attached to actual spider thread, due to my now-low supply of silk. Each of them felt deliciously smooth against my skin, and the thongs were especially exciting- I had never wore anything like them before, and I felt _sexy._ I only had a single bra, a lacy thing that was completely see-through. It used up the last of my silk, and I was determined to wear it and one of my thongs in conjunction at some point.

But really, the things I was most excited by- besides my soon-to-be super cloak of invincibility!- were the accessories. There was a reason I started with the gloves and shoes when working on my actual costume- and only part of it was a desire to work inwards.

There were two things I had inherited from my mother. My hair, and my height.

Mom hadn't been a small girl. At six foot two, she actually rose above dad. She always stood out in a crowd- and when I started shooting up like a weed when puberty hit, mom had laughed and said that another giantess was going to be stalking the streets soon enough. I was among the tallest, if not the tallest girl in my grade- years of bullying had left me with a stooped posture, but even so I rose above most of the girls. At first, I had been proud of my size- until I realized it made it easy for the trio to find me in the hallways. Then it became a burden. Now? They weren't a problem, and I was going to show off- and if my boots had an extra inch or two of padding, well, who would notice? I'd have to add even more for my actual costume to distinguish my cape persona!

The gloves were a different thing altogether. I liked gloves. I wasn't sure when or where I picked it up, but smooth, articulated gloves made me feel powerful and, well, classy. Fingerless biker gloves made me feel tough, with reinforced knuckles for hitting someone if I ever felt like it (not that I had reason to, before the trio formed) and full winter gloves and mittens were extra layers of protection, something I believed you could never have too much of. (Super Invincibility Cloak!) While I wouldn't call it a _fetish,_ exactly, wearing my spider-silk gloves while masturbating made the entire experience more erotic, if a little frustrating and difficult. Especially if I defiled the business gloves with my juices, only to wash them clean in seconds, with no sign of their previous use. I was totally going to abuse that feature.

In the end, a good fourth of my silk production that weekend went towards various gloves and boots. Thigh- and shoulder-high creations, pointed toes and delicate fingers, I spent a good couple of hours simply marching around the house when dad was gone in nothing more than a pair of gloves and shoes.

I christened many different surfaces in the house as well. Dad commented on the smell more than once, and I had practically burned with embarrassment as I hastily told him about my various... Cooking... Experiments. After that experience I was carful to keep my 'other' activities to the basement.

My rescued chair would never look or smell the same again. It was permanently stained.

Overall, my weekend was incredibly enjoyable. School, when it arrived, passed by just as easily. Emma and Madison avoided me, the teachers and various students accepted the change, and Sophia hunted me down to have angry sex at lunch. I suspect that more than one of the staff and part of the student body had caught on- it was pretty hard to hide the combination of lateness, smell, and general improvement in both my and Sophia's moods when it happened constantly. Nobody ever said anything to me directly, but more than once I caught students muttering things about 'sexual tension' and 'so _that's_ why Sophia went after her.'

I made sure to 'punish' Sophia extra hard on those days. I was working out my frustration on her very willing body, but that didn't change the fact that she pushed me into a locker full of blood, vomit and tampons for two class periods straight. I'm fairly certain she enjoyed it, but it made me feel better, so I bruised her sensitive parts with abandon.

The sex itself fell into routine, aside from my occasional fits. I'd head up to the roof, or into one of the empty classrooms far from the path of travel, or simply out back where it had started. Sophia would show up a minute or two later, after I had most of my lunch in my stomach- or at least she learned to, after one particular incident, a couple of weeks into our 'arrangement'- and she postured before I held her down and violated her. For the first week, she fought back if I left her untouched for long enough. By the second, she didn't even bother to try. The third, well...

-

"Come on, Kitten. I don't think you're trying hard enough." I had Sophia pinned to a wall. Her shorts were pooled around her ankles, and her tank-top had been pushed upwards with her bra pulled down. Her eyes were closed as she panted. Her nipples were stiff in the cool breeze, and she had trails of liquid running down her legs, reaching all the way past her still-shaking knees. My hand was still gently probing her, randomly suffering periods of pressure when an aftershock hit. Sophia was very vocal, very physical, and very appreciative of her orgasms. I had to physically hold her up when this latest one had hit, as I'd spent the last twenty minutes working her up to it. I'd had a bad evening, yesterday; dad had a screaming match with the phone about something. As soon as Sophia had stepped out of the door, I'd pressed her against the brick, guided one of her hands into my jeans, and set about driving her mad. Even now, she was still stroking at me pathetically, barely putting effort into it, and I was less than happy with that after the convulsions I'd sent her into.

"Why.. Do you.. Call me... That...?" Sophia had to wheeze out each word between breathes. She barely had enough strength to stand, let alone try and please me, so she had to distract me. I wasn't pleased, but I allowed it.

"Isn't it obvious, Kitten? It's because you're mine." Her eyes snap open at that, and she makes a weak attempt to push me off.

"Fuck you! I don't belong... To anybody...!" That gets a chuckle out of me. This was coming from the girl you currently had at your complete mercy?

"Face the facts, Kitten. You _do_ belong to me. You spend half the day trailing after me, and as soon as we're away from everyone you come up and attack me with your cute, fluffy little paws and ask me to play. Then, when I tire you out, you sit here in a puddle and try to get your breath back. You aren't going to leave, Kitten, and even if you tried, I'd just hunt you down and bring you back."

Astonishingly enough, it's the truth. I've actually become _fond_ of Sophia. When she isn't tempting me into doing sinful things to her body, she generally acts like a decent human being. She follows me between classes, makes jokes that aren't aimed solely at insulting me, and isn't bad to have around. Sometimes I have to 'correct' her crueler observations about predators and prey-that weird viewpoint I haven't been able to screw out of her, yet-but I've honestly, genuinely become fond of having her around. If she stopped, I'd actually be sad, and try to get her to start again. Then I'd 'punish' her for trying to leave, of course.

Isn't that weird to contemplate?

Meanwhile, Sophia has frozen, and is currently staring off into space beyond my shoulder. Perhaps that little speech was too much for her-

And then she punches me in the gut.

It isn't strong enough to do more than elicit a startled wheeze from me, but the fact that she did it at all is annoying. I thought I'd trained her out of that- are those tears?

"Don't fucking lie to me! Nobody cares enough to, to... You don't... I can't..." She's struggling to wipe away the moisture falling from her eyes, and I have no idea how to react to this. So I fall back on what's worked so far, and mash my lips into hers. She flinches, before making a weak attempt to bite my tongue off that terminates when I pick up the pace of my stroking. She's still so sensitive from her earlier orgasm that it's the work of moments to push her into a moaning fit. Moments before she reaches the peak-I've gained enough experience to see all the warning signs- I pull back.

"You. Belong. To. Me." I practically growl the words into her ear, just as she hits the edge and screams her release. I don't slow down- in fact, I pick up the speed. I only stop when she finally regains enough breathe to wheeze out something that sounds like a 'please..'

"You aren't going anywhere, Sophia. I won't let you." And that calm statement is all it takes to break her down completely. She spends the next few minutes clutching me and sobbing into my shoulder, while I pat her on the back and desperately try to ignore the fact that I still have her hooked on my fingers while I reassure her. By the time she's done, my shirt is wet, and my ribs hurt from her 'hug.'

She pulls back, and wipes her eyes so an arm, sniffing. She pushes my fingers out of her- taking a moment to give them the now-customary cleaning- and pulls up her pants. She spends a moment re-arranging her bra and shirt, and when she's done stalling, she looks up at me with with a glare.

It's ruined by the fact that her eyes are still rimmed with red.

"You don't tell anyone about this. Got it?" I nod, before leaning forward to kiss her once more. It looks like I'll be going without, today, but the cry session had just about killed any build-up I'd had anyway.

Instead, I end up kissing brick as Sophia drops to the ground.

I look at the wall in shock for a moment, before I feel the tug against my un-zippered jeans. As they drop to the ground, alongside my underwear, my wide-eyed stare transfers from the wall to Sophia kneeling before me. She's staring right back up at me with narrowed eyes.

"I'm nobody's bitch, Tiger. I won't be doing this for you often, so don't get used to it!"

Then again, maybe not _all_ of my desire is gone. As Sophia's tongue reaches out and slides up the center of my slit, I brace myself against the wall and raise my head in prayer for the patience to deal with emotional track-stars.

-

Sophia goes down on me the next day as well.


	4. Tiger & Kitten 4

Sophia didn't comment on her breakdown. In fact, she seemed even more aggressive afterwards- she started trying to fight back when I pinned her once again, and actually drew blood once or twice.

Despite that... I felt more comfortable around her. Just knowing that she had more emotional states than 'horny' and 'insulting others' made her more of a person to me. And knowing that she had her own issues beyond her little classification system went a long way towards softening the effects of her bullying campaign. It certainly didn't excuse her, but I could understand the _why_ a bit better now.

Still, her little rebellion didn't last long. Less than three days later, I was already sick of her attitude. The snarky comments and scratches annoyed me, and after one long evening messing around with spider silk that ran a little too late, I was tired and cranky.

Obviously, this meant that Sophia saw weakness and decided that it needed to be attacked.

-

"Come on, Hebert. Get something tastier for lunch! Stupid sandwiches can't keep ya going all the time."

I was currently in the middle of raising said sandwich to my mouth. I nearly flinched- Sophia had always given me time to eat before she showed up for our afternoon sessions, and appearing on the roof half a minute behind me was unexpected. The near-flinch was caught by Sophia, and her ever-present smirk only widened. It took a large amount of willpower to restrain myself. Instead, I returned my gaze to my food, and took a bite- only to have the sandwich snatched out of my hand.

"Wha-Hey!" My instinctive protest fell upon uncaring ears, as Sophia danced backwards with both my sandwich and my lunch bag. She'd taken my food! And she didn't seem likely to just give it back, either.

"I'm not playing games today, Kitten. Give me my stuff!" I levered myself up to my feet, stepping towards Sophia as threateningly as I could. She took a step backwards for every forward step of mine, and before long I was outright chasing her. If her laughter was any indication, she was enjoying this- she might've been a track star, but size matters, and my legs were longer than hers. Up on the roof, she had nowhere to run, and my long stride let me keep up with her easily. She barely dodged my grasp each time. And while she seemed amused, I was less than pleased.

As this continued on, a plan unfolded in the back of my head. I had passed out late last night, after experimenting with spider ropes. Waking up late meant that I didn't even have time to change clothes before I had to rush to school- and several of my pockets contained different sizes and lengths of silk cord.

Actually catching her took some preparation, but soon enough I had her trapped against a radiator. Wrestling my food from her took little effort- Sophia wasn't hanging on very hard. She seemed almost... Giddy. I barely had time to catch my breath before she was kissing me, pressing up against my chest, and generally trying to molest me as best as she could. What had gotten her into this mood? Either way, it fit my plan.

"I didn't enjoy that, Kitten." I gently take her wrists into one hand, while I slip the other into a pocket. Sophia is almost licking at my jaw in anticipation, and actually assists me in holding her limbs together. That only makes it easier for me.

"Come-on, Tiger! I'm gonna strip you down and make _you_ scream for once..." She's really eager. It almost makes me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.

But not really.

A burst of movement has her hands tied behind her back. I drop to the floor, and drag confused Sophia with me. A little bit of positioning, and she's laid out across my lap, back down. By this time she's regained her wits, and is testing her bonds.

"Silk, Tiger? Well, I didn't think-" I ignore her, quickly and efficiently pulling off her clothes. Her shirt goes up to her neck, her bra is unsnapped and pulled off, and her pants fly into the air behind me. Once I reach the panties, I notice a rather large wet spot-she's this excited already? Obviously, being tied up does things to her.

Still, I have a better use for that piece of cloth. Another moment has her devoid of any lower covering, and then I take the panties and shove them into Sophia's mouth.

"You're going to be quiet today, Kitten. I'm going to eat my lunch- and I'm going to do it off the handy little table I have in front of me."

And I proceed to do just that. Sophia actually stares in disbelief as I place my lunchbox on her nicely toned stomach, and actually attempts to make a muffled protest when I begin eating my sandwich rather than tending to her.

I'm not actually that cruel, of course. After a moment, I give in, and reach down with one hand while eating with the other. I start off slow, rubbing and pressing softly, before actually pressing inwards- I fall into a pattern, pushing in, gently rubbing against her walls with the tips of my fingers before pulling out, rubbing her clit in time with my exit. It's more than enough to set Sophia moaning into her cloth gag, and soon enough she's trembling-

At which point I promptly stop. Sophia whimpers. She opens her eyes to stare at me pleadingly- and I begin again. Resuming my earlier rocking motions, Sophia starts shivering once more-only for me to stop. His time I hear muffled words- they're too quiet to be understandable, but I'm fairly certain they were curses.

"You're being a bad table, Kitten. Good tables don't twitch and ruin my food. Will you stop twitching?" I mock-scold her, even as she frantically nods I answer to my question. Of course, it isn't that easy for poor Sophia. I've said it before, but she's very enthusiastic about her orgasms, and the pleasure leading up to them. At some point, even as she does her best to remain still, the pleasure overcomes her and her body starts bucking- only for me to quit stroking her. By the time I'm finished with my lunch, there's a puddle beneath her that's seeped into my pants leg and her eyes are almost crossed with need.

Snapping shut my lunchbox, I brush the crumbs off of Sophia with quick, short gestures. Even those small touches are enough to set her whimpering. Once my 'table' is sufficiently clean, I set about withdrawing my fingers.

It isn't as easy as it sounds. She's clenched around them hard enough that any too-fast movement will set her off. I have to pull them out slowly, inch by inch, while Sophia whines with desire.

For a moment, I simply sit and admire the lean, powerfully built girl I have in my lap. She's begging me with her eyes, and I have no doubt that if she had her mouth free she'd be begging me with that as well. Her entire body shines with sweat, practically glistening in the afternoon sun. Juices trail down her thighs and pools beneath her raised bottom, with enough volume to reach my legs.

Yeah, I'm never letting this go.

Reaching forward, I pull the wadded set of panties from Sophia's mouth.

"Please! Oh god, oh Jesus, fuck me into the ground, shove your fingers into my pussy so hard I can't walk, make me scream, Tiger! Please! PleasepleasepleasePLEASE!"

I nearly had an orgasm right there. The way she begged, it was giving me the best set of chills possible.

"Hush, Kitten, I won't leave you unattended. After all, what good meal is complete without desert?"

With that comment, I twist Sophia. While she had been sprawled across my lap sideways, with her head and legs hanging off the sides, she was now facing me. With a bit of dexterity, her shoulders were now on my knees, and her legs were hooked over my shoulders. She understood the position immediately, and let out and excited series of 'Yes!'s before I shushed her once more.

This time, I made sure to stare into her eyes as I slowly lifted her hips with my hands. Even as her back arched, and her neck had to bend further and further, Sophia kept her gaze focused on me.

It was only when I blew gently on her wet slit that she threw back her head and moaned. We were both more than ready at that point, so I moved forwards.

I started out with licks, the entire flat of my tongue running up her folds from top to bottom, with a little flick at the end to stimulate her button. I moved slowly, both to keep Sophia from cumming too early and to contemplate my first try at cunnilingus.

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly tasting good. I compared it mostly to 'flavored' water. You could tell that it had a distinct taste, but it was still just water, and very unlikely to disgust your tongue. I was particularly glad for the inoffensive taste, because there was a _lot_ of it. I knew Sophia leaked like a rusty faucet, as I'd actually had to throw away several outfits that had been stained beyond all hope of washing, but I didn't really comprehend how _much_ until I was drinking it down. Given fifteen seconds, Sophia could make a small pool in my mouth- and this was with part of it ending up on my chin, in spite of my best efforts. With my new close-up view of her pussy, I noticed small things that I had missed or simply hadn't cared about while I only had a hand down here. For one, her clit wasn't really hooded. It was a very clear, small pearl of flesh, topping her slit and glimmering proudly. It was also causing Sophia to shudder every time my tongue brushed it.

After a bit of fun, I pulled back and let Sophia recover somewhat. She wasn't exactly pleased with this. Her legs attempted to pull me in, but a quick smack to her bare ass stopped that quickly enough. Fortunately for her, it wasn't my plan to leave her hanging much longer.

This time I dived in with abandon. I skipped over the licking and went straight to penetration. Which... Was weird.

Sophia made it feel easier than it actually was. While she was very, very appreciative of my efforts, pushing inwards with my very soft, very squishy appendage meant that her contractions actually squeezed my tongue outside of her. She seemed to enjoy it though, so I continued on and within seconds her legs gripped my skull, her body seized up, and she shrieked loud enough to wake the dead.

That would startle some students.

Still, Sophia was loud enough, often enough, that nine-tenths of the school had connected the dots. In an amusing twist of the original 'ignore the entire situation' hey had transferred their blind spots to my sex life. Nobody make comments in the hallways, even when I was sure that both myself, Sophia, and anyone who might take offense was out of earshot. A rare funny side effect was the looks I got- almost no-one was able to meet my eyes for long without blushing and dropping their gaze. Boys had to hastily re-arrange pants whenever I came into view with even slightly disheveled clothes, and at least half of the school population looked outright lecherous when I returned from lunch each day. I was sure we'd been caught more than once, either from accidental intrusions or perverts actively trying to hunt us down, but switching the meeting spot every day cut down on that.

A couple of times I was completely aware that I given someone a show. I could always find out which student it was by finding the one that fidgeted whenever I so much as glanced in their general direction.

Ah, Sophia was done. Her legs had finally relaxed their death grip on my skull, her twitching had died down, and she was panting rather than shrieking. I gave her a couple more licks before I gently unhooked her legs and laid her on the ground. I let her rest for a moment while I caught my breath. Then I moved onto the next important piece of our trysts- my pleasure. I help her sit up, and soon enough she's on her knees. I get to my feet. Were right in front of the radiator, and she's right at the best level for certain... Things. Which gives me a very nice idea.

"You did badly, Kitten, you squirmed too much to be a good table and you almost suffocated me. How should I punish you? Should I just leave you here?" Sophia is shaking her head, unable to get enough air in to reply verbally through her gasps.

"Well, then, I know what you can do to make up for your mistake. Will you do it, Kitten?" She's nodding hard enough to hurt her neck, and I'm pretty darn eager as well. I unzip my pants, and drop them to the ground, revealing to my currently captive audience that all in wearing beneath is a small, silk thing barely worthy of the name of underwear. That, I take off much more slowly, enjoying the way that Sophia's eyes follow it down my legs before snapping back up to my hairless mound, sitting not six inches from her face.

She knows what to do from here.

She leans forward, and I throw back my head in ecstasy. She's much more skilled at this than I am. Her tongue darts in and out, switching between pointed licks and flicks and pushing into me before writhing. It's torture, and my hands find their way into Sophia's hair. At first, they just stroke her head, but as she works me towards the end, I end up gripping more than brushing.

And then I hit my peak, and the gripping becomes an outright pull. I'm smashing my pussy into her lips, almost riding her face, and she's not slowing in the slightest. I rock her head against me, pressing against her tongue harder than I should, and outright soaking Sophia's face in liquid.

By the time I'm done, I'm gently rubbing her lips along my flesh with my tangled grip in her hair. Looking down reveals that Sophia has an almost glazed look to her jaw, reminding me of sugared donuts. Sophia herself has closed eyes and is breathing heavily, making up for the limited air she must've had when I was smashing her into my pelvis.

I back away. As I slowly clean with the tissues I now carry everywhere as a matter of practicality, I leave Sophia kneeling there in nothing but a scrunched-up t-shirt, chest thrust outward, bare to the world with her hands tied behind her back. Her head is still in the position I left it, upraised and slightly bent forward.

At the moment, she was the most beautiful piece of art I'd ever seen.

I'd definitely have to carry around more ropes.

-

It isn't all fun and games, however. At this point, my (base) costume is finally finished, and I have rough plans to go patrolling in a week or two. Enough time to weave some beetle shells into the outermost layer for a combination of more protection in the form of easily shattered plates that would take a whole lot of damage for me, even if they were good for maybe two hits, and actually covering up. Spider silk is a little bit _too_ form-fitting, even when I leave enough slack to avoid the super-cameltoe. I don't need my nipples on display with every cold breeze.

Still, I had started on the robes that I hoped to eventually turn into my back-up 'heavy duty' protection suit, and had wasted more silk on clothes than I could handle. I couldn't actually wear any of my creations, as a teenager wearing spider-silk clothes is so obviously connected to the new hero in a spider-silk bodysuit with insect control powers I'd legitimately have to be an idiot to try. Even the underwear and rope was pushing it- but those only got exposed to Sophia, and she probably thought they were just regular silk. Still, I had wasted enough time.

The thought of a patrol actually made me nervous, but it made me excited as well. I'd be cleaning up the streets, building up a reputation, and acting like a real hero!

What could go wrong?


	5. Tiger & Kitten 5

Sophia calmed down after our little session on the roof. I, of course, ended up bringing more ropes to school. The spider silk was ridiculously tough, even at a tiny thickness. I could pack a good couple of feet into a few inches, with a bit of coiling. It became a staple of our afternoon trysts- three days out of four, I had her tied up. Sometimes it was simply with her arms behind her back, sometimes I had her almost completely immobile.

It was incredibly arousing, having Sophia at my mercy. It wasn't just pleasure keeping her weak- she literally couldn't resist. The fact that she enjoyed it too just made it better.

We'd been at school together for about three months now. Over that time, a lot had happened. At school, aside from the little... **Situation** with Emma, we hadn't had any problems. No one messed with us, no one commented on our frequent, loud sex, and no-one approached me more than once after I shooed them away the first time.

On the cape side of things, it wasn't so good. My very first night out, I'd ended up finding _Lung_, of all people. I was going to leave, but some of the comments he made... I would not, would never, stand aside and let a child die. So I went all-out.

I had heard that Lung had a healing factor. I hadn't thought about how it worked, or if it might've been weaker when he wasn't transformed. As a result, he was now missing two limbs due to necrosis and was in a coma, under lock and key. Panacea had halted the necrosis and restarted his heart, but she couldn't touch brains and couldn't replace limbs. They were awaiting his awakening to transport him to the birdcage, as Panacea _was_ able to tell the authorities that excess agitation could worsen the minor amount of brain damage he now had, potentially leading to rapid moods swings and overwhelming anger. If he woke up in the middle of transport, incredibly angry, away from his 'home base'...

So they kept him on life support with an armed guard. Lung disappearing from the scene had stirred up all kinds of trouble. The previously quiet E88 were pushing for territory, the ABB was pushing back with fancy Tinker bombs from an unknown source, the Merchants were selling drugs to everyone, and the Undersiders were laying low in hopes of not becoming bait for the big guys.

I knew the last personally. Soon after I put down Lung and finished hitting every thug involved with an epipen, the Undersiders had shown up. I hadn't researched enough to know they were villains, and had a nice chat with them about the consequences of my actions. Or rather, had a nice chat with Tattletale about the consequences of my actions. Then they thanked me for saving their butts, as they were the ones he was after, said 'by the way, we're villains' and skedaddled.

It fucked with my world-view something fierce. Villains were old, evil men in costumes who stole from children and murdered people. Not teenagers. Especially not teenagers in danger of being outright killed just because they stole from a casino.

Even more interestingly, Tattletale sought me out afterwards. She sent me a message, met me in a park, and handed over five-thousand in cash.

Then we had a nice, long chat about cape rules and super villainy in general. Aside from one minor **Situation**, Tattletale was surprisingly nice to hang around with. It'd been a while since I could just talk with someone besides Sophia, even if it was about the difficulties of wearing form-fitting full body suits without showing off certain attributes to anyone who looked. It turns out that there were pads for just that sort of problem. That meeting was followed by another invitation a week later, to eat at Fugly Bob's. I was curious enough about how she would get around the 'known villain' aspect, and agreed.

She cheated by wearing a different costume. She threw on a blue-black domino mask, painted her hair blue, and came in a blue-highlight Japanese Sailor uniform. It was something I'd have done, in her situation. I just went in my newly finished Invinci-cloak, reveling in the feeling of being outright immune to anything below a high-grade rifle in penetration power. I didn't enjoy the heat nearly as much- I had the intelligence to realize that the swathes of silk would heat up, especially as I had died them black, and went naked underneath. When we finally left, after an hour of talking about inconsequential things, Tattletale noticed I was sweating underneath the folds with her bullshit-power and we headed off to the shade, cool and privacy of the Boat Graveyard.

After we got there, Tattletale surprised the hell out of me- she pulled off her mask. After a bit of shock and questioning, she revealed her name as Lisa and a bit of her background. Forcibly recruited by Coil, the issues of her teammates, and the plan Coil had for playing the gangs off each other and taking over the city after they decimated one another.

I wanted to know why she thought she could trust me with this. She laughed and pointed out her super-intuition once again- I wouldn't turn over a bunch of kids to the PRT when the group consisted of a sociopath desperately trying to find things to give him emotion, a girl who was so badly fucked over by her life and her trigger that she could barely live in society, a guy just trying to save his sister from their mother, and a girl who had a metaphorical- and sometimes literal- gun held to her head.

Especially when I held the key to getting them out of crime.

Apparently, my silk clothes would be worth a lot. Not just as body armor, but as actual clothing- with a skilled designer, people would pay out the nose for genuine spider silk dresses and suits. And with me as the only source... Lisa guaranteed that with her power backing me up, I'd be wealthy enough to outright buy the entirety of Brockton Bay within a couple of years, and more than enough to afford the cost of a 'private security team' within a few months. That the 'team' just so happened to consist of teenage Parahumans remarkably like the retired Undersiders was a complete coincidence, of course.

It was when she casually pointed out how I hadn't even thought of using the secluded location to capture her that I gave in. Two conversations about cape business and morals and she had me pegged. Lisa was scary.

I also really wanted that money. Enough to buy Brockton Bay was more than enough to infuse the economy and clear the docks.

My dad would live to see his dream come true.

So I made a deal. I helped her take down Coil, she'd help me get rich and save the Undersiders. She had been determined to put the bastard into jail herself, but with the recent upheaval Coil had been forced to show his hand much faster than he'd like. And Tattletale had gleaned something from that.

Coil was working from inside the PRT. He had to be fairly high up in the system to have access to all the information he was using- and Tattletale narrowed down the list of possible candidates each day. When the time came, I'd assault his underground base with the help of the Undersiders (hired by their secret Boss- or so Lisa would say) and hold him while Lisa released his identity to the public.

I was wary of going up against an unknown parahuman, but whatever his powers were, they weren't suited for direct battle. He just seemed to always make good choices- if there were multiple options for something, more often than not he'd go with one that somehow ended well. I was her ace in the hole- Coil had no knowledge of me, and would be completely blindsided when I worked with the Undersiders to capture him.

We'd hand him over to the Guild, avoiding any loyal employees Coil mig have in the PRT, and let them hang on to him.

And then the 'mysterious Boss' would retire, letting me grab the Undersiders for my own.

Overall. It was a solid plan. One that had a very good possibility of working, and would give me the chance to solve the cities problems, both through turning some Villains into Heroes (because I was not going to just sit on my but and make silk. I was going to be a Hero, darn it, even if I had to drag my 'security team' around with me!) and by drawing attention and more PRT focus to the revival I would offer the town via a cash influx.

I could imagine that future. I wanted it. So I gave in.

And now I'm allied to a Villain group, even if the group itself doesn't know yet.

Planning and talking with Lisa, who knew me as Taylor once I decided to unmask in the Boat Graveyard (which led to another **Situation**), took up attention. Attention that Sophia noticed the lack of. She was starting to act up again, and I had an idea to settle her down.

It was going to be fun.

-

It was Friday, and Sophia's reaction when I told her that she was to come to my house at five after school was fairly amusing. She simply stood there, blinking, while I nonchalantly continued down the hallway. I had timed it carefully, despite my facade. I reached the correct classroom just as the bell rang, leaving Sophia no time to speak to me. I avoided her during the breaks between each class, slipping by her in the halls. When the bell rang for lunch, for the first time in _months,_ I actually hid from Sophia. I didn't pass her a note, or guide her to my carefully chosen destination.

On my way towards my fifth hour, I passed Sophia in the hallway. She looked... Lost. Like she had suddenly been dumped into a desert, with no map and no water.

I ducked down and walked by.

It probably looked horrible from an outside perspective, but I wasn't doing it to be cruel. I had an entirely different reason- one I was almost ashamed of.

I was nervous.

Just thinking about this weekend made my gut twist. While my relationship with Sophia wasn't exactly smooth sailing, what I was about to do was the equivalent of throwing away the guide and charting new waters. Waters that were potentially full of sea monsters.

While we hadn't had the most conventional start, we had settled into a nice rhythm, a stable routine. We fucked, we talked, we made jokes, we fucked, we complained about homework, we fucked, and we then we fucked some more. Before school, after school, and of course, the now-traditional lunch session. But all of that happened here, at the school, or in the occasional park, or even out by the beach on one memorable occasion. Not once did Sophia offer to have me visit her at her home. After the meeting that had started it all, Sophia didn't come to my house. It seemed like an unspoken agreement. We didn't mention, ask about or bring up the other's home life. Our time at school was just that- our time.

My invitation threw all of that out the window, and I was planning something even worse. I was practically sick with anticipation.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur as I lost myself to my fears. What if she got upset? What if she decided not to come by at all? Would she pretend it had never happened, or would she confront me about it? Worst of all, what if she-

The final bell rang, and I was out of my desk like a shot from a cannon. I rushed towards the front doors, out into the fresh air, and made it home in record time. I checked behind me every block, desperately hoping not to see Sophia chasing after me- bugs covered the blocks beyond those. There was no-one around.

I wasn't sure if I was relieved or terrified.

When I made it home, I frantically went over my preparations time and time again. Dad hadn't changed his plans, he was spending the night at a friends house in celebration of something-or-other. All of the spiders had been moved out- they were temporarily stored in the abandoned house three blocks down. The silk clothing had been packed into boxes and stored with the spiders, and finally The Chair-it deserved emphasis, after all the orgasms and soaking it had endured-was stored with them. My notebooks about superhero-ing had been carefully put away, I had given the house a cursory wipe-down, I had even changed my sheets! As the time ticked down towards five, I checked and rechecked everything. When I finished, sure that Sophia would knock on the door any minute, I rushed towards the entrance- only to catch a glimpse of the clock.

It was only four twenty.

This night would be the end of me.

-

At five o'clock exactly, Sophia knocked on the door. I very nearly sprinted to answer. It took a lot of self-control to stop, take a deep breath, and walk there. Opening the door, I took in the sight of Sophia- she had changed clothes. Her school outfit had simply been a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with only a sweat-shirt tied around her waist as an acknowledgment of the cold. Now, she had a pair of slightly scuffed black slacks on, along with a long-sleeved shirt. She fidgeted as I drank in the sight of her, the conflicting feelings within me only increasing. Once I had them under something that might approach control on a good day, I stepped to the side.

"Please, come in. Feel free to make yourself at home." Sophia stepped inside, and her eyes gave the room a cursory once-over before returning to me. I closed the door, then silently headed towards the kitchen/dining room, as it was the only room in the house that had hard chairs. I didn't think I could sit on the sofa without collapsing into the cushions. Sophia followed closely behind me, not pausing in her steps so much as once.

I pulled out a chair for her, and gestured for her to sit. She took it silently, and her head followed me as I circled the table to sit across from her.

"Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice...?" She shook her head. I was starting to feel even more uncomfortable as her eyes refused to focus anywhere but my face. I paused for a moment, searching for the right words. Now that I was actually here, in the moment, my carefully rehearsed speech fled from my mind, and I was drawing a blank. One moment became two, two became three.

"Get it over with."  
"What?"

I could barely hear her- right before she spoke, she had dropped her gaze to the table. The words came out mumbled. She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then _jumped up and leaned across the table to shove her suddenly angry visage into my face!_

"I **said**, spit it out! Tell me we're done! Tell me how you found someone else, and how she's so much better than me, and how it's **my fault** for moping around because my dad-!" Suddenly, the rage seemed to melt from her face, and she collapsed back into the chair. Her hands come up to her face, and she finished her sentence in a quiet, tired voice.

"...Just end it. Just, just, stop it and let me leave."

I sit there in shocked silence for several long, long seconds before her meaning fully penetrates. Then I'm standing up so quickly my chair falls behind me with a bang, and Sophia jerks her head up to stare at me. I take long steps, and in moments I'm around the table. I kneel in one quick, smooth motion. Sophia is staring wide-eyed at me, almost a foot below her in my lowered position. I gently reach forward, capturing her wrists in an automatic, smooth grip, trained from weeks of practice, and with the other hand I reach out to rest a palm on her cheek.

"I am not leaving you, Sophia." My voice is firm, all of my earlier hesitation gone, only left with a cold kind of horror that she would expect this from me- and a great, burning desire to show her how wrong she was.

"I told you before. I'm not letting you go, even if I have to tie you down to keep you."

"Sophia Hess. Kitten. Will you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?"

The question hangs in the air, and Sophia just- sits there. Silent. Still.

And then she begins to cry.

I brace myself just in time, as she throws herself forward, smashing her face into my chest. We end up sprawled on my back across the floor, and Sophia clutches the front of my shirt as she sobs. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, and just hug her, making small, soothing noises.

Time passes. Slowly, her crying comes to an end. She stays there, with her face pressed against my meager breasts, for what feels like an eternity.

"...Yes."

I could barely hear her whisper.

"What was that, Kitten?"

"I said yes! I'll be your stupid girlfriend, Hebert!"

Her belligerence makes me chuckle. Trying to save face after crying yourself out? How very like you, Kitten.

I reach downwards, and slowly pull her face upwards by her chin. Her eyes are red, and there are obvious tear tracks in the small amount of makeup she wears. Her nose has been running, and her entire face is slightly swollen and red. I pull her up towards me with my remaining arm around her back, and bring my face down to meet hers.

She tastes like salt.

I don't mind.

-

We sit there a moment longer, enjoying the kiss. Eventually it has to end, and I pull back, eliciting a small whimper from Kitten. I try to stand us up- she protests by refusing to release her hold and digging her face back into my chest. I chuckle.

"Come on, Kitten. I did have plans for the rest of the evening. Don't you want to know what they are?" Sophia gives in reluctantly, slowly loosening her grip. I patiently wait, and when she's done, I stand up, offering her a hand to her feet. She takes it, and I pull her up with a bit of a grunt. Kitten has a lot more muscle than me, but she chooses to give me a mock-dirty look. She can't hold it long, and it breaks into a tiny smile.

Kitten is my girlfriend now.

It really hits me at that moment. Sophia agreed! She really said yes!

It takes far too much self-control to keep from kissing her. So I kiss her anyway.

When I pull back, I have the goofiest grin on my face. Kitten's little smile has widened as well. It takes a moment of stupidly smirking at her before I remember my plans.

The rest of the evening passes by in a flash. I had picked out a nice restaurant, made reservations, taken the time to hunt down a nice set of clothes that aren't the obvious spider silk.

Instead, we go out to Fugly Bobs and eat sandwichs. We joke around, and we laugh, and we have too much fun- we end up disturbing some of the other patrons, especially when we kiss just a _little_ too much too often. One particular redhead has trouble shutting his gaping mouth- Sophia seemed to attract his attention more than I did. Maybe he had a thing for shorter, black girls?

Then we're headed towards my home. As soon as the door is shut, I turn to receive a flying Kitten to the lips.

Kissing is nice.

After a moment for breath, I kiss her again- harder this time. Some of my intent must've leaked through, because she moans as she kisses me back.

I lead her up the stairs, pulling her behind me until we reach my room. Then I toss her onto the bed.

In an instant, I'm on top of her, feeling her around the outside of her clothes. My hands slide over her breasts, lead down to her thighs, stroke gently and come back up to slide under her shirt. It's gone before I know it, and I'm pushing aside her bra, going straight to her nipples, plucking them gently before I bend forward to take one into my mouth and suck. Kitten's hands come up to grip at my hair- I restrain them with my free hand, take the roll of silk I had on my bedside table for just this, and briskly tie them together.

Pulling back, I stare down at the panting girl beneath me. Her arms encircle her breasts, pushing them together and putting them further on display. Her wrists are tied neatly above the zipper of her pants.

This time, when I lean in to bite at the unattended nipple, I head for her pants with my hands. Within seconds, the zipper is down and her clothing has been pushed away. I have a hand rubbing against her, once, twice- before I thrust inwards, pumping with my fingers. I use my other hand to twist the unattended nipple, and kitten arches her back with a gasp. I'm far too impatient to do this for long, however. I take a moment longer p, then pull back to remove her clothing completely.

I stand there, looking at the slightly sweating nude girl on my bed, hands tied together. She looks back at me with lust.

I'm one of the luckiest people on earth.

I stride towards the closet, and fetch a rather special box. Reaching inside, I pull out two things, and when a I turn towards kitten, her eyes widen. I have a middling sized, featureless black strap-on in one hand, and lube in the other.

I've practiced- and although I mess up slightly due to my eagerness, the strap-on is snapped into place and the lube poured onto it in two minutes. Strolling forward, I enjoy the look of anticipation in Kitten's eyes. Kneeling on the bed, I twist, before leaning forward to loom over Sophia. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I reach down with one hand, balancing on the other. Guiding the rod, I gently rub against her lips for a moment, eliciting a whine. I slowly, ever so slowly, press forward, and the fake dick slides into Sophia with barely any resistance. I stop an inch in, enjoying the way Kitten snaps open her pleasure-closed eyes to glare at me- and just as she opens her mouth to make a complaint, I thrust inwards.

Kitten takes the rest of the dildo as smoothly as she did the first. I sink in easily, taking it all the way to the hilt on the first try. Sophia's eyes roll into the back of her head as her aborted protest transforms into a breathy squeak. I give her only a second to adjust- then I start pounding. I pull out until only the tip remains in, then spear forward with my weight. Each push brings about a small slapping sound as my flesh meets Kitten's, and her entire body bounces with the force of my strikes. It's not even half a minute before she starts to scream in earnest, announcing her orgasm to the world as usual. I cut her off with a kiss, strangling the sounds inside her mouth. I don't slow- even as she clenches around the dildo hard enough to actually impede my thrusts, I simply add more force. As her trembling peaks, I break off the kiss and lower my mouth to bite down on a nipple. The formerly muffled shrieks nearly double in volume, and she convulses around the strap-on until her breath runs out.

When her thrashing begins to subside, I finally begin to slow, eventually pulling out entirely. Kitten lays there with an exhausted look- her eyes refuse to focus on any one thing, and her mouth is open as she pants like a dog. That suits my purposes just fine.

Climbing off the bed, I move to the head and pull Sophia towards me. She hangs on the edge of the bed, head facing towards my crotch. A fact I quickly take advantage of. Her eyes clear quickly when I begin fucking her face, driving the dildo in and out with short, quirk jerks. Each time I increase the depth a little further, until Sophia finally gags on the plastic. I back off a little, then being banging her mouth in earnest. Sophia plays along, sucking and moaning around the shaft. Still, this isn't very pleasurable for either of us, so I quickly return to my earlier activity. This time, there is no wait period. I just slam my hips into Kitten's with as much force as I can muster, and begin driving her towards orgasm once more.

-

Hours later, I lay in bed next to a Kitten. We're both sweat-soaked, naked, and exhausted with pleasure. I still have the now-glazed dildo attached to me at the hips, standing proudly in the air. I can't be bothered to take it off.

Just as I'm falling asleep, I feel shifting. Kitten is cuddling up to me, her back pressed against my side.

I chuckle, and I can see her shoulders tense even in the relative darkness. Moving myself, I turn to face her, throwing an arm around her while pressing forward with my hips. The dildo ends up buried between her thighs, and I idly toy with a bruised nipple as I begin to approach sleep once more. Her muscles relax, unable to remain tense after I fucked all of her energy out of her.  
"...ve you, Taylor."  
My eyes drift shut.


	6. Amy & Glory Girl

Amy couldn't take it anymore.

She honestly, completely could not handle it. She wasn't entirely sure what mental breakdowns were like, and wether or not she was experiencing one right now, but it seemed likely. It had been a long day. Healing at the hospital, homework, trying to get Mark up to do _something_, and then more healing.

Then Glory Girl, Victoria, her own personal hero, had finally picked her up.

Only to insist that she should 'unwind' with some exercise, and drag her out to the gym at twelve o'clock at night. In exchange for patronage and advertisement rights, the gym let Victoria take in anyone she wanted, at any time. She had her own personal set of keys.

Amy watched Victoria bench weights that would have given Olympic body builders trouble, run just for the sake of running, and generally work up a sweat.

Sweat that was then washed off in the showers. Where she now was.

Victoria was in the stall next to her, whistling happily. Amy, who had lifted five pound weights for all of five minutes before gazing at Victoria's sleek, shiny body as it worked, was staring at the wall and desperately ignoring the fact that Victoria was naked not five feet from her. If she gave in, even for a second...

The water cut off. Amy sighed in relief as Victoria exited her shower stall. Finally, the torture would be over- she could return home, masturbate herself into a coma, and wake up tomorrow to-_oh sweet Jesus that was the sound of the shower curtain opening behind her._

Amy felt flesh brush against her back. As if to confirm her worst nightmares, the familiar profile of Victoria's body popped up in the back of her mind. The same bare body that was currently humming happily behind her, the same delightfully nude body that was gently brushing against her own with various, nice-feeling parts.

"Vic-" The first try came out squeaky beyond belief. Amy had to clear her throat several times before she lower her voice to an acceptable level.

"Victoria. Why are you in my shower?" There. Question was out. Nice and calm, don't do anything drastic, don't-

"It's because I ran out of shampoo, so I'm going to borrow yours. You'll give me some, because you're awesome, right?"

Victoria was hugging her. Victoria was _hugging her._ Victoria was _nude_, and _hugging her_, and she could feel her nipples sliding over her back, slick from the water.

Amy could not take it anymore.

So she carefully memorized Victoria's current biological profile, imprinted it on her sisters thigh in a incredibly, impossibly small scar, and made the modifications she'd always dreamed of making.

Victoria froze with her hands wrapped around Amy.

"Vi-Vicky?" In a flash, Victoria's hands snapped upward, each taking a grip on Amy's nipples and squeezing. She fell against the wall with a squeak that rapidly transformed into a moan.

"That's Glory Girl to you, Amy. Understand?" Victoria's voice was firm, hard, and everything Amy imagined it would be. She could feel each movement of the comparatively massive breasts smashed against her back, as the wet body against her slowly began to grind. The digits gripping Amy's nipples squeezed and rolled when she was too slow to answer.

"Y-yes! Ah, right there!" Victo-no, Glory Girl's fingers pinched down, and pulled forward, stretching out Amy's nearly non-existent breasts. She gasped in a mixture of surprise, delight, and pain, nearly collapsing forward at the rush of feelings.

"It looks like you're really enjoying this, Amy." Glory Girl released her grip on the hard points, only to open her palms and easily engulf Amy's entire chest in both hands, giving a firm squeeze as she did.  
"What does that make you, Amy? What kind of girl enjoys being molested by her sister?" Her grip tightened- it left white marks on her skin, but Amy was much too excited to care. She knew this part of the script!

"A -Aah- a dirty slut! I'm a, a-ohgod-a filthy, worthless slut who who gets off on her sisters haaAAAHH!" The constant massage of her chest, along with the naughty thrill that ran through her when she called herself a _slut_ sent Amy over the edge. The shocks running through her body made her weak, and when Glory Girl suddenly let go of her, Amy fell to the floor of the shower with a splash.

"A slut, hm? You think so? Well then, Slut, I'll have to use you like one!"

Amy felt a strong grip grab her hair and tilt her head back. As she opened her mouth to cry out, only to find her mouth filled. Glory Girl was holding Amy against her pussy with one hand, using the other to pull at her own, much larger breasts.

"Well?! Start licking, Slut! Lick your sister!" Amy shook herself out of her daze and went to work. She hadn't ever done this before, and did her best to substitute eagerness for skill. She flicked out her tongue, dragging it across Glory Girl's folds roughly, before diving straight in, pressing with as much as she could. Glory Girl threw back her head and _moaned,_ rocking Amy's head against her slit with her hand.

It wasn't enough. Glory Girl became rougher and rougher, and soon Amy found herself simply holding her tongue out while Glory Girl rocked her head back and forth with a single hand.

"Come on, Slut! Is this the best you can do?! I wish I had something to stick down your throat- at least it would squeeze me, willing or not!"

That game Amy a wonderfully nice idea. She had been in the internet more and more often lately, due to having no friends outside of Victoria, and had found some... Interesting things. Not the least of which was the idea of a 'futanari.' Pull muscle from here, form a pair of internal, over-productive testes there... Extend the whole creation, set it to trigger when a series of points are hit...

Amy carefully reached up, and tapped a specific set of pressure points on the inside of Glory Girl's thigh in order. Within seconds, the flesh was bulging, twisting, and soon enough, a fully formed penis was slapping Amy on the forehead with each pull of Glory Girl's hands.

"Hah... Creative, Slut! Let me try it out!" With that comment, Glory Girl drew Amy back, used her free hand to point her new cock, and thrust straight into Amy's throat.

If it weren't for her knowledge of the human body, Amy would've choked. But the gag reflex was a automatic response like any other, and could be suppressed. Squeeze the left thumb, relax here, press down on this with her free hand... A couple seconds of misery later, the uncomfortable feeling faded away, leaving just the sensation of her sister's cock deep in her throat.

She had made the thing into a ten inch monster, wide enough that she struggled to fit it into her mouth. Glory Girl had switched both hands to Amy's head, and was gleefully pumping away. Each thrust pushed more of her tool into Amy. By the time it was halfway in, Amy could reach up and _feel_ the point where it became visible, bulging out her neck. Just the idea of it had nearly driven her crazy when she had just been masturbating- now, when she could touch her sister's cock through the soft flesh of her throat, one hand was almost a blur as she rubbed at her pussy.

Glory Girl was reaching the midway point between the bottom of Amy's jaw and the start of her collarbone, and the lack of oxygen was beginning to darken her vision. Glory Girl pulled back far enough to allow Amy to take quick, shallow breaths with each thrust, but as she went deeper and deeper, the pauses shortened, until all Amy could get was one quick gasp of air. Then even that was gone, as the last couple of inches made it into her mouth, and Amy's nose was pushed into the neat little triangle of hair at the base of her sister's gigantic shaft. The bulge that represented the overly large cock reached the beginning of her torso, and Glory Girl only pulled back a few inches- she never left Amy's throat. With the edges of her sight disappearing into blackness, her hand moved even faster- the one on her neck squeezed, pressing down on Glory Girl from the outside, drawing another moan and a slit increase in speed from her. The inability to breath made it all so much more exciting, and she reached her climax just as the black overtook the last point of light, convulsively swallowing around her sister's dick, moaning into her crotch.

Suddenly, Glory Girl withdrew completely, leaving Amy gasping. Color swam back into view around her, and if it weren't for one of Glory Girl's hands keeping her up with a firm grip on her hair, she would've collapsed. As it was, it took several moments for her to make sense of the sight before her.

Glory Girl was stroking her penis with rough, quick jerks, her teeth clenched.

"Hah...! You... Don't get... To... Pass out... On me...! Take it!" With a roar, Glory Girl shoved forward, pushing her dick all the way into Amy's open, panting mouth, spearing her from lips to neck in one push. Then she started to spurt.

Amy had designed her sister's testes with two points in mind- infertility, and a completely absurd semen production. The second one was biting her now, as Glory Girl came almost directly into her stomach. Then she began to pull out. As Glory Girl pulled backwards, her volume of liquid failed to decrease, painting the inside of Amy's throat white with each shot. When she finally retreated from her neck entirely, Amy count suite suppress the cough- cum was pushed upwards along with the air. When Amy kept her lips firmly closed, the cum left through the only available route- her nose. A gout of semen left her, covering her upper lip and some of her sisters dick- after, a steady white stream dripped. At this point, Glory Girl had only the tip of her penis inside Amy's mouth, and was still cumming. In no time at all, she bloated Amy's cheeks, and despite her best efforts and repeated swallowing, white trails escaped the corners of her lips. As the spray finally slowed, Glory Girl pulled completely out, and painted her sisters face. The first shot caught her on the brow, and began dripping down immediately. The second draped across her nose, and the third through seventh decorated her cheeks. The final, sad little dribbles ended up on Amy's chest, running down her small amount of cleavage.

Her lungs pumping like bellows, Amy coughed hard, cum almost gushing from her mouth. Bubbles formed at the edges, making a small amount of white froth. When she could finally breathe, she looked up to catch a glimpse of her sister- only to find her staring down at Amy so an expectant grin.

She was also quickly stroking her monster cock back into firmness.

Amy shuddered with a mix of anticipation.

"How does my Slut enjoy the taste of of her sisters cum? Does she like it?" Amy shuddered- the dirty talk sent jolts of pleasure through her stomach each time.

"I loved the taste of your cum, big sister! Will you please fuck my pussy until I'm so bruised I can't walk?" Amy was desperately trying to stick to the script she had imagined so many times in her head, but it was hard enough that she skipped a few lines. She wanted that dick in her. Now.

"I suppose. Turn around, Slut, and get on your knees. You won't be able to move when I'm done!" Amy almost fell over as she switched positions, turning over so quickly her flesh squeaked on the floor. The spray of water had been turned off at some point in he middle of their fun. As a bonus, Amy was able to keep the majority of the cum on her, with only the excess slipping to the floor to splatter across the tile. Once she was on her hands and knees, she heard movement as a glory girl dropped to the floor behind her. She glanced backwards- her sister was limit herself up, one hand on Amy's hip, he other directing her penis. She pressed up against Amy's soaked slit and rubbed once, twice- and then thrust forward.

Amy wasn't a stranger to vaginal penetration. It was embarrassing as all hell to shop at a sex store, but nobody could refuse to sell her anything- she as Panacea, the healer!

Still. The largest dido she had was only barely bigger than vpGlory Girl's thickness- and it capped out at six inches. Each use left her aching for hours afterwards.

Glory Girl was much rougher than she had ever been with herself.

She pushed forward, hitting the previous record of six inches and continuing on. By the time she was done pushing, she had half an inch left outside, and the tip was pressing against Amy's cervix. The position was uncomfortable, slightly painful as never-before-used flesh stretched, and overall it sent Amy into delightful shivers. Then Glory Girl began to fuck her in earnest.

Plunging in and out, each thrust pushed Amy forward, rocking her entire body. The cock smashed into the barrier to her womb with each hit, pushing mixed signals of intense discomfort and pleasure to her brain. Glory Girl was gripping her hips with right hands, sure to leave distinct bruises later, but for now Amy was lost in ecstasy. Her sister was literally fucking her into the ground, as each pounding blow shook her arms until she couldn't take it any more and simply fell forward, leaning into the floor. The cum decorating her _squished_ and _slurped_ as it pooled on the tile, making a variety of sounds as Amy slid back and forth on top of it. Drool mixed with the leftover cum leaked from her mouth, mixing with the soup below her. She could hear the slapping as Glory Girl rammed against her, the sound of thighs meeting her ass and the bouncing of Glory Girl's breasts. Their moans mixed, echoing loudly in the empty room.

Within six minutes, Amy had orgasmed at least as half as many times, and a Glory Girl was approaching her own limit. One, two more thrusts- and then she was flooding her sister's womb with cum, as tightly pressed against Amy's cervix as she was. Amy felt each shot, felt it as she was filled. Soon enough, she felt full and swollen, and Glory Girl's cum leaked backwards, pouring out from the cracks between her cock and the folds of Amy's pussy.

Amy nearly came once again, just picturing the thought of a filled belly bulging out slightly, filled to the brim with Glory Girl's semen.

Pulling out, Glory Girl left Amy to collapse to the floor, pulling back to take several deep breaths. There as a period where both girls just struggled to catch their breath.

Amy stared blankly at the wall as she struggled to process thought higher than just feeling the buzz of pleasure throughout her entire body. Cum leaked like a sieve from her abused slit, running through the slight patch of hair she kept neatly trimmed before it dripped to the floor in a spreading pool. The semen she had slid in was cool, sapping heat and strength from her into the cold floor. Her entire front and one of her sheers were caked in the stuff- part of her hair was soaked in it as well. That had been beyond her wildest dreams- now she just had to modify Glory Girl back-

She was being flipped over. Why was she being flipped over? The image within her head of the body that had popped up as soon as she was touched answered the question p, but she had to see it with her own eyes.

Glory Girl was kneeling, a another erection between her legs. There wasn't any banter, no questions, just the feeling of her leaning in, placing her hands on ever side of Amy's body, and pressing insistently against Amy's ass.

She had tried anal before. It wasn't especially pleasing, but now? She was more than willing to try. A quick tweak to Glory Girl's cock set it to start leaking precum in large quantities. Within seconds, the tight ring of her ass was soaking wet. Glory Girl started to actually penetrate- and for once, she went slowly, taking her time to press in, lubricating each step as Amy struggled to relax.

But Glory Girl couldn't keep it up for long. By the time she was halfway into Amy, she was pressing more and more insistently against the soft, pliant flesh within, barely wiling to refrain from simply thrusting into Amy unrestrained.

When she finally hilted herself, she no longer had to worry about making Amy bleed by fucking unlubricated flesh.

She immediately made up for lost time by beginning to pound Amy as hard as she could, almost shaping the inside of her ass into the outline of her dick by sheer force alone. Amy was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. There was a large, large difference between having a oiled up dildo in her and a warm, thrusting cock. She could feel the heat as it radiated from her sister, and each push deposited more and more precum into the fleshy tunnel of her insides. Soon enough, Glory Girl was pressing in and out of Amy's butt as easily as she had fucked her pussy.

It was too much.

Amy was literally being fucked unconscious. Her vision was blacking out once more, and this time it was from pleasure overload. Glory Girl was showing no signs of stopping, even as Amy rapidly approached orgasm.

When she finally peaked, however, Glory Girl poured shot after shot into Amy's stomach. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth, she finally lost it.

-

"Man, I can't believe we fell asleep in the showers!" Victoria twirled around as she entered the Dallon house, happy to be home.

"Yeah. Lucky I woke us up early, right?" Despite her words, Amy was exhausted. She had been woken to the sound of an employee as he entered the bathrooms, and only her frantic exclamation had prevented him from seeing something... Unfortunate.

Currently, Victoria was under the impression that they'd both conked out in the showers after a big workout. Which was true, just not... Exactly how she interpreted it. Still, both of them were fairly tired, and after some scolding from Carol were ready to return to bed.

"I'm happy you came out with me. I can't remember much, but if you said we had fun, I believe it- even if I ended up like this. Night, sis!"

Even as Victoria floated off to her room, yawning, Amy smiled at her back, before yawning and heading towards her own room.

_I think... I'd like to do that again some time._


	7. Snippets

**The Quest for Nookie**

Sometimes, having powers was annoying.

I did my best to ignore the ongoing orgy around me as I read the assigned chapter. Luckily, the teacher had actually gotten around to assigning a chapter before the situation devolved into shouting, declarations of love, and sex.

Sex everywhere.

A flung pair of panties hit my head, and I pulled them off with a sigh.

Such was the life of Taylor Hebert, the girl who changed the very laws of physics and the deeply ingrained instincts of society with naught but my presence.

A flailing leg kicked my book off my desk. I restrained the urge to kick the owner of said leg back.

Running on Porn Logic sucked.

Another screamer had an orgasm, and I clenched my teeth in agitation. My hand inched towards my pants. Nobody would notice. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. It would be so easy. Damn power...

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming from my ass!" Aaaaaand there went the mood. Thank you, Sakura. Your poor language skills always appear at the right time. Oddly enough, she had perfectly good grammar outside my range.

Still, what would it take to get some satisfaction?

Another couple without a care in the world (and an equal lack of clothes) fell onto my desk, scattering my stuff everywhere. For a moment I simply stared at the completely oblivious pair rutting right in front of me.

Then I sighed. Screw it.

The hand went back towards the pants. 

* * *

"Missy, please!"

"Damnit Chris, I've told you, I will drink when I want to and you can't stop me!"

"But, but you get violent when you drink! You always threaten to hit me!"

"Have I hit you yet!?"

"No, but-"

"Then shut up or I'll hit you!"

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Out with the girls."

"And where is that?"

"Goddamnit Chris, I'm fucking going out! Why the hell does it bother you!?"

"Missy, you're always going out with the girls! You never just stay and have some time for us!"

"This is the exact reason I always to go out!"

"Please? You said you'd stay and cuddle for a while-"

"Yeah, well, that was before. I've changed my mind."

"I... I just want someone to be _close_ to."

"Yeah, well, go see if Carlos is up for that. Oh wait, you can't, he's dead!"

"Missy!"

"I just don't know what to _do_, she won't stop ignoring me! I've tried to talk to her, and I even made a lasagna dinner for her!"

"Kid Win, how will this discussion lead to the .7% increase in efficiency you spoke of?"

"We're getting there! And then, she just... She called the lasagna too _dry_! I worked on that lasagna for hours! Why would she do that!?"

"Kid Win, tears are inefficient. Please cease your production of water near my Halberd."

* * *

**Panacea the Pervert**

Lisa groaned.

Today was Saturday. Meeting day, where all the Undersiders got together and discussed their territories. She had overextended herself, trying to get some clues on the bastard who had been leaving rubber duckies everywhere in her office- Regent was going to fucking _pay_, using Imp to cheat- but she really wanted to go. She really, really wanted to go.

Taylor had convinced Panacea to join up with them while the S9 had been in town- thank god they had managed to kill them all- and had spent a lot of time around the poor girl to try and help her. One thing had led to another, and now the two were in a relationship. It was cute and everyone supported the two, but only Taylor and Lisa were aware of something the rest had missed- Panacea was a huge pervert.

For example, the last time they had been in these meetings, Panacea had been on Taylor's right, and had held Taylor's hand on her lap. Out of sight. Grue thought it was cute- Lisa thought it was hilarious the way Panacea had Taylor masturbate her in front of everyone. And she had been catching hints all week- something even bigger would go down today. Lisa had deliberately withheld her power, because she wanted it to be a surprise; she didn't get many of those, especially not funny ones like this.

So she really wanted to go. Even if her head was killing her.

Lisa was in the meeting room, sitting at the circular table. Tayor, Brian, Parian and Fletchette had shown up on time, as usual, while the others were running late. It happened regularly with Imp, Regent and Bitch, but Panacea being late was unusual.

Then Taylor snapped up in her seat, her eyes looking at something far from here.

"Skitter! Any trouble?" Brain was on top of the situation in seconds- one of the things that had made him leader material back in the day.

"N-no, everything's fine!" Taylor squeaked out. Literally squeaked- her voice was higher pitched than usual. Lisa was tempted to use her power, but yet another stabbing pain through her head as she shifted made her reconsider.

Then the door opened, and Panacea strode in. There was nothing obviously different about her- the same robes as always, and although there as a slight hitch in her stride, she was walking quickly enough. She sat next to Taylor, as usual- the newer chairs had armrests, so there couldn't be any sneaky play under the table. What was Panacea going to do? Lisa could hardly wait.

Panacea had shifted in her chair several times. Taylor was currently sweating profusely and staring at the wall while Parian went over her profit margin from her business, and how much she was willing to invest in the other's territories. Other than that, not much had happened, and Lisa was becoming insanely curious. Panacea wasn't doing anything obvious, but Taylor wasn't reacting to comments very well-

Panacea shifted in her seat slightly, and Taylor whimpered. Parian halted as everyone turned to Taylor curiously- she was blushing intensely. It took several repetitions of 'it's fine, continue' before the meeting was back on track.

Panacea's robes swished slightly.

Taylor's grip tightened on her armrests.

Panacea repositioned herself with a little hop.

Taylor bit her lip.

Panacea had been bouncing in place for a while now, simply jumping up and down on her chair. Taylor, on the other hand, was flinching with each bounce. At this point, everyone in the room had caught on that something fishy was happening. Even as Brian did his best to ignore it, Panacea's bouncing sped up- only to stop with a sigh.

There was a loud snap.

Taylor was looking down at her hand in surprise, where she held the edge of her armrest- ripped off of the chair. Her eyes left the piece of wood- only to notice everyone staring at her. She blushed, hopped up, and mumbled something before rushing out of the room.

Everyone simply traded glances for a second, before Panacea rose out of her chair-only to nearly fall a moment later. She had to brace herself against the table for a moment while her legs stopped trembling.

"I-I'm going to s-see what's wrong with her." Panacea made her way to the door, wobbling with each step- each bow-legged step.

Lisa couldn't hold back anymore.

_Uncomfortable to walk. Still happy. Still pleased. Robes larger-longer than usual, slightly different color. Weight difference results in different movement of robe- heavier than it looks. Pleasure is sexual-limp is from hard sex. Robe contributed. Robe is living creature. Robe is living creature Taylor can control. Bumping was rough sex, shivering with all limbs implies total body excitement._

Robe has inside made of tongues and tentacles. Panacea is nude within it. Taylor was sensing and partially controlling the licking and eventual fucking of Panacea in front of us.

Brain had no idea what was wrong with Taylor, but he hoped Amy could help her. Now he just had to figure out why Lisa was laughing manically while pausing every few seconds to say 'Ow' and clutch her head before laughing again.


	8. Shadow Stalker & Black Widow (T&K Omake)

**Shadow Stalker &amp; Black Widow**

Sophia was bored. Bored and annoyed.

She was stuck on an evening patrol with Kid Win, of all people. It never seem to stick in his head that she didn't like him, didn't like his tech, and especially didn't like his jabber-mouth. Every patrol, without fail. He'd attempt to strike up a conversation, completely ignoring the fact that she couldn't even reply in shadow state as she jumped across roofs. He just floated along on his little board, talking and talking, annoying the hell out of her.

Sometimes she contemplated using him for target practice. It wasn't like there was anything else important going on, after all. Just roof-hopping and imagining increasingly vicious and creative ways to shut him up. They were patrolling the edge of the 'high class' part of town, where the shiny houses gradually gave way to the suburbs. Crime here was rare. It was busy-work. Sophia had been just a tiny bit too rough with her last purse-snatcher, and now she was under inspection again. The guy would live just fine with a broken jaw! Hell, give it a month or two and the guy would be fine! More and more, she found her thoughts leaning towards Tiger, as a way to stave off the urge to hit Chris until he stopped talking.

Hebert had surprised the hell out of her. When Sophia had stopped by her house after her review meeting, she had expected to find a diary or some silly little toys or a tear-stained pillow. The girl had to have _some_ emotions beyond 'stone wall,' and the idea of making her cry herself to sleep gave Sophia a visceral feeling of satisfaction. She wouldn't be fucking ignored! No one ignored her, especially not stupid, unattractive girls like Hebert!

Instead, Sophia found the end of her own fucking life on paper. Every little thing she'd done, the 'physical assault' and insults were recorded. Date, time, the words used, location, everything. Most of the stuff listed she couldn't even remember, but it was all there.

If that book got out, the Protectorate would slam her into juvie and throw away the key. She had been so fucking close to tearing it up and flushing it down a toilet- only the thought of possible copies kept her from going through with it.

Then she read the other notebook.

And Jesus Christ, now she knew how Hebert let to of her emotions. She came up with the most twisted revenge fantasies. Some of the stuff in there had given her the chills. More importantly, though, Hebert was to going to escalate- get actual video, save up for a high-quality tape recorder, and make it even harder for Sophia to have any chance of defending herself.

She had to crack down on this. End it right away, before Hebert could release the info. Even so, Sophia was really damn impressed. Hebert wasn't prey- she wasn't even close to prey. She had let them think they had been winning, when they were just digging themselves deeper and deeper into the trap.

That had somehow led into sex. Really fantastic sex. Hebert had been a complete surprise there too- and Sophia had liked it. Being held down, and when it escalated being tied down was a gigantic fucking turn-on. Just letting go and having Tiger take control and please the fuck out of Sophia was really damn hot. After so long taking care of... Certain people, just letting someone else take care of Sophia without being forced to ask for it like a weakling was relaxing. Some time where she could depend on someone else for a change.

And the sex was really, _really_ great.

Activity caught the edge of Sophia's eye as she made yet another jump, bringing her mind off distracting thoughts of banging Tiger. She had seen something moving in the shadows across the street, in an alleyway, and when she shifted forms she confirmed it. Darkness was nothing to her in shadow state- everything was as clear as if she was wearing night-goggles. A single, unmoving silhouette appeared, while the ground seemed to squirm and shift all around it.

"Hey, shut up for a sec! I saw something. Sit your ass here and _don't move_ while I check it out." Ignoring Kid Win's startled 'Huh?' Sophia changed directions. Jumping off the roof, she glided across the road, coming to a halt on the sidewalk beside the entrance to the alley. Shifting back, she crouched and cautiously peered into the alley.

While she couldn't use her shadow state for fear of attracting attention- a writhing, churning smoky outline of a person wasn't exactly stealthy- she was close enough to make more details. The silhouette was a thin, almost skeletal costume. Made out of some black cloth as a base, it was further layered with dark plates of...something, that extended into spines at the elbows, knees and shoulders. None were long enough to impede movement in any way, but they all could be used to strike against opponents to inflict nasty stab wounds. The shoulder spikes curved outward, sweeping low to keep from limiting vision or neck movement, but still spiny enough to give anyone who was trying to grip it or attack its head a very difficult time. The head itself was inside a curved helmet, with long hair falling from the base of the neck to slide between the morass of spikes that made up the figures collarbone. Overall, even with just the back of the figure presented to her, it was an intimidating sight. Utterly motionless, with the arms hanging by its sides, the person could've easily been mistaken for a statue.

Sophia, however, had her mind on other things.

Mostly that the 'ground' was a carpet of spiders.

It took a lot of self-control not to recoil violently. Movement attracted attention, and she did _not_ want the attention of this particular person.

'This person' was Black Widow, a vigilante notorious for her incredibly violent takedowns. Sophia had never encountered her in person, and all the PRT had on her appearance was a couple of shitty videos and witness accounts. That, and the survivors of her attacks.

Sophia had seen those, of course. Information given to the Wards, likely just to drive into their skulls how dangerous someone with complete control over hordes of spiders could be, only served to impress Sophia further. The victims were usually only bitten a few times, if they were even bitten more than once, but one or two bites was all you needed when the biter was a black widow spider. The real damage came from the psychological aspect. All of the criminals-every single one-taken in by Black Widow developed some form of arachnophobia, ranging from mild to a particularly severe case where the man in question became literally paralyzed with fear whenever he so much as saw a spider. The red hourglass distinctive to black widows could give him heart attacks when they showed up unexpectedly.

The other Wards had expressed outrage and disgust (along with a hint of fear) when they learned this. Sophia had taken further steps and looked up more information. The man had been attempting to rape a fourteen year old girl at gunpoint.

The fucker deserved what he got. That was the birth of Sophia's respect for the Black Widow.

That didn't mean she was stupid, of course. As one of the members of the Wards without a full body costume, she was particularly vulnerable to the swarm tactics Black Widow employed. The PRT had an outstanding warrant for the vigilante, due to 'excessive use of force,' but there as no way in hell she would willingly bring in a predator like Widow to end up in the same trap she did- Wards or prison. No, she'd leave Widow here to do whatever it is that she was doing, and go on her merry way-

"Hey! You! Black Widow, please stand down and allow yourself to be taken into custody without a fight!"

He had to be fucking kidding her.

Nope. There he was, sitting in the sky, hovering on his board and pointing his stupid little ray pistols at Widow. Widow had redirected her attention from... Whatever it was she had been looking at, to stare at him.

Motherfucker. Sophia was going to have to rescue his ass, wasn't she? And she had just been thinking about how much it would suck to fight Widow.

"If you do not cease your attack upon the people you currently have within your swarm and surrender, I will use force!"

So _that's_ what Widow had been looking at. Upon closer inspection, there were two lumps under the mass of spiders. One of them was still twitching slightly every few seconds. Still, those two made for excellent examples of what would happen to her if she just charged out. She as reasonably certain she could move fast enough to prevent any spiders from latching onto her, but if Widow slowed her down even once long enough for a single spider to get a bite in, she'd be forced to look for the nearest hospital immediately.

When they got out of this, she was going to beat the hell out of Chris.

Then he began to shoot at Widow. This time, she actually moved- each step was precise, and just enough to get herself out of the line of fire. The lasers impacted the ground around her, kicking up and crushing spiders, but Widow was avoiding every single shot with an almost casual grace. Kid Win upped his rate of fire, and Widow _danced_ around each one. Sophia found herself admiring the way Black Widow trivialized Kid Win's shots- she had been fired at before, during practice spars, and it wasn't as easy as she made it look. In fact, that stance, the way Widow just didn't give a fuck as she side-stepped everything seemed familiar.

Then Widow's head twisted to look _right fucking at her._

Sophia finally saw the front of Black Widow's mask for the first time. It was just as black and sleek as the rest of her costume, patterned with the plates. The really creepy part was the eyes. There were eight of them.

They were all red. Two were obviously in the right place to be actual lenses, but the pairs patterned out to each side felt like actual eyes, as if the person beneath the costume was looking at her through every single one of them at once. As if all eight were focused on her, and nothing but her, even as Widow continued to dodge every blast from Kid Win. The mandibles and gigantic fangs that extended just a bit past the jaw line wouldn't look out of place in a horror movie, but those eyes...

It took Sophia several seconds to realize she was just staring at Widow, frozen in place. Instinct kicked in, and she flung herself backwards, shifting to shadow state as she did so. When she had traveled across the entire street in seconds, she shifted back, focusing on Widow. The freaky red eyes had tracked her across the road, and the vigilante began to work her way towards Sophia, moving closer with each dodged ray. Having actually turned towards her, the giant red hourglass emblazoned across Black Widow's stomach was obvious- right up until a fold of the same black cloth deployed from _somewhere,_ and covered the convenient target.

Sophia wasted no time in pulling out her own crossbow, loaded it up with tranqs and started shooting. She didn't have any more luck than Kid Win, although the secondary fire forced Widow to move even faster. Sophia narrowed her eyes in thought, even as she continued to fire mechanically. How in the hell was Widow pulling this off? The precise movements almost indicated a power was behind this, but near as Sophia could tell, powers came in an obvious theme. Bug control didn't lead to danger sense, unless...

Wait. Something about that thought.

Pausing for a moment to just _look_, Sophia caught it. When Kid Win adjusted his aim, Widow moved. The close-up view she had earlier kept Sophia from having both Kid Win and Widow in view, but now that she was looking for it, it was obvious. Widow was anticipating Kid Win's shots- without even looking at him. Somehow she knew where he was aiming before he fired, and compensated. Loading up her own crossbow, Sophia took careful aim- and the jerked her arm upwards just as she fired.

Sure enough, Black Widow flinched downwards instinctively, in a quick jerk that was nowhere near as graceful as her regular dodges. The arrow hadn't even come close to hitting Widow, sailing straight over her head even if Widow had been standing up.

That proved it. Widow didn't have a danger sense or precog- both would've completely ignored the shot. She just knew how they were aiming.

How was she doing that? It had to be based on bug control somehow...

There it was again. That niggling little feeling, that she had glossed over something important.

It had to be based on bug control somehow.

Based on bug control.

Bug control.

Who said that Black Widow's limit was just spiders?

Sophia's eyes fell to her arms- and there, perched on the edges of her wrists, were a pair of flies. Not moving, even as she just about flung her arms about, loading and aiming her bolts.

She slapped down on one of the flys.

Black Widow jerked as though punched, and her focus, which had been on Kid Win, immediately shot back to Sophia.

_Ah, shit._

Now that she was outed, Widow apparently felt no need to keep up the charade. Within seconds, a swarm of flying insects enveloped Kid Win. She could see him thrashing within the cloud, slapping at himself wildly- his board jerked back and forth, sending him careening through the sky.

Meanwhile, Sophia found herself within her own cloud. Bugs were everywhere, smashing themselves into her in a medley of chaos. She couldn't see two feet in front of her own face, and panic gripped her for a moment, leading her to slap madly at the insects everywhere on her body. Suddenly, the bugs let up for a second- only for Black Widow to crash into her.

It took several seconds for the stars to fade from her vision as her head smashed into the ground. Widow was actually laying on her, and had an arm bar against Sophia's throat. The impact had driven out all the air in her lungs, and she could see the edges of her vision darken. Struggling weakly, all she could focus on was the eight red lenses of Black Widow's mask staring down impassively at her as she fell into unconsciousness.

-

Sophia woke with a start.

One moment, she was unconscious- the next, she was fully awake and spluttering as some horrible stench assaulted her nose in waves intense enough to make her tear up.

"So the smelling salts really do work. I was worried that I'd wasted money on them."

The horrible scent was removed, and Sophia took several seconds to blink the moisture out of her eyes and evaluate the situation.

She was still in her costume, for one; Widow hadn't removed Sophia's mask. Or at least she had put it back on before she woke Sophia up. Either way, she was currently tied to something at her wrists, shoulders, knees and ankles, suspended in midair in an 'X' position. She was tilted forward slightly- enough to worry that she would end up smashing into the pavement below her if she was released suddenly, but not an extreme angle. The surroundings were pretty indistinct- dirty concrete floor, some cheap peeling siding, they could be in any one of a million different abandoned warehouses. The only light was the glow of the moon, visible from a single window, which implied that she had been out for a while- the moon had just been rising when she was out with Kid Win. While she still had her costume, all the pockets were empty. All her bolts, the back-up pepper spray, the cuffs, everything was gone. Including the earpiece that doubled as a locator.

Finally, there was Black widow herself, the intimidating armored figure who looked completely out of place sitting on a metal fold-out chair, staring at Sophia with her creepy mask. Jesus, those eyes bothered her. Sophia looked away, turning her head to the side- from this point of view, she could see what she was tied to. A giant spiderweb.

"What, not going to say anything? And here I was looking forward to talking with the feared Shadow Stalker, the former vigilante who struck terror into the hearts of criminals everywhere." Sophia wasn't a social genius, but she could tell when she was being mocked. Her lips curled back in a snarl beneath her mask, and it took all her self control not to start cussing back.

"'Wards are not to speak with kidnappers.'" Sophia repeated the shit she had been fed while in 'training.' At this point, it was only a matter of time before Widow's attention would waver, and Sophia could shadow-shift out of the bonds to beat the crap out of her. She wouldn't give the fucker the satisfaction of riling her up.

"That, right there, is the problem. When did you become so _tame,_ Shadow Stalker? How tight is the leash on your neck, that you've become such a picture perfect little Ward?" Black Widow flowed to her feet, approaching Sophia with smooth steps. Those movements, that voice- there was something about Widow that was making Sophia uneasy. And it wasn't just the crap that was spewing from her mouth, either.

"I used to be a fan. I listened to the news, eagerly awaiting the time when they'd announce how many criminals you'd tied up for the useless heroes of the city. Then you disappeared."

Widow was getting entirely too close- that creepy fucking mask was coming way to close to Sophia's face. One hand reached out to gently trail down her tied arm.

"And when you showed up again- in the Wards, no less- I expected to hear even more about how many pathetic crooks you'd taken down every night, cleaning up the streets."

Sophia was gritting her teeth, struggling not to strike out immediately. This bitch knew nothing about what had happened! If only Widow would back the fuck _off_ and get out of her face...! Instead, Widow only leaned in closer- Sophia could see her fucking reflection in the tinted red lenses.

"But nothing of the sort happened. In fact, you began hunting less and less petty crooks, your count lowering each week, until today. Now, you barely average a purse-snatcher or two every couple of days- I asked myself, 'Why is she slowing? What is dragging her down?'"

"It took me a while, but I finally understood. The public appearances, the shows, everything- whenever you showed up, you were so angry. Stalking around, snapping at anyone who bothered you- I realized. You weren't in the Wards by choice- you were a caged animal, a de-clawed pet."

"And you just let it happen. You didn't fight back, you didn't denounce the bastards who were holding you- you just accepted the iron collar with a bit of grumbling. What happened to the real Shadow Stalker, the one who put arrows in the guts of rapists?"

With a howl of rage, Sophia thrashed at her bonds. It took several seconds just to remember that she could shift out of them. Determined to shut the bitch up, show her she was completely fucking wrong-!

Sophia started to melt into shadows, sliding out of the corporeal world- only to snap back into full materialization with a choked scream as the previously unfelt _collar_ burned her. The bitch had a fucking _shock collar_ on her!

"I am not an idiot, Shadow Stalker. I wouldn't even attempt to hold you with mere spider silk when I am fully aware of your capability to simply move through solid objects. Luckily, I'm working with a certain little blabber-mouth on taking down a Villain who has her by the figurative balls, and information on you was part of the deal. She'd seen enough of you to notice the way you avoided anything with electricity running through it- from there, all I needed was a juiced-up battery, some wires, and a choker."

Sophia couldn't do anything but breath for several long, agonizing seconds. There wasn't any getting used to the pain inflicted by electricity- each time she felt it, it seemed more painful than the last. Tremors shook her limbs, and a tiny amount of drool leaked from her hanging jaw to splatter on the floor as she drooped in place, barely able to make out the floor beneath her.

A hand came into view- it gently gripped the chin of her mask. Sophia barely had the energy to begin to panic when the hand started to remove it- only for the hand to pause when it had pulled it an inch away. A black-clad thumb ran across her lips gently, removing the spit, before the mask was lowered back into place. The hand formerly holding the edge of the disguise transferred to her actual chin, and her head was gently lifted.

Widow had unhinged the bottom of her own mask, somehow. The creepy fangs and mandibles were hanging loosely by her neck. The pale white flesh revealed almost seemed to glow in the moon, but what really caught her attention was the ruby-red lips that were turned down in a frown.

"I'm sorry for that. I didn't know that it would affect you so badly, otherwise I would've warned you beforehand. I'll have words with my source when I see her again."

"But this is the problem. That fire, that rage, that was what made you such an excellent hero. The Wards have crushed it. You just sat back and parroted their words, rather than fight me from the beginning."

When Sophia failed to answer, Widow's hands began to wander. Slowly sliding down Sophia's front, they came to rest on the small expanse of her stomach that had struggled free of the costume in her rage. Gently stroking it, the baby-soft feel of the gloves sent tingles straight up Sophia's spine. Combined with the disorientation from the electricity and her still over-sensitive nerves, Sophia wouldn't help the low moan that escaped her mouth.

Widow seemed to jerk in surprise, before the glistening lips lost their downward curve. Experimentally, she slid Sophia's shirt further out of the way, and trailed her fingers across the abs she found there. This time, Sophia's moan was louder. Widow actually chuckled.

"I have someone who I play around with. She enjoys being tied down, and has the same delicious mocha skin. She's called you the best damn predator in Brockton Bay, before- I can't disagree with her. Maybe you two are related?"

Something about that sentence was sending alarm bells ringing through Sophia's head. The gentle massage was very much distracting- it was sending curls of desire through her, warming her, relaxing the leftover shivers from being zapped. Sophia knew she should be pissed off, and she _was_, but Tiger hadn't done her any favors. She was used to being excited and tied down- just the situation had her body prepping for the same sex as always.

Black Widow's hands slid under the cloth covering her chest, and traced the outlines of Sophia's muscles. Following the curve of her belly up until she reached Sophia's bra, she teased the flesh beneath it with gentle pinches and soft strokes. She seemed to deliberately avoid Sophia's nipples, touching everywhere but the parts that almost begged to be abused. Unable to hold it in, Sophia moaned louder, almost melting into the caresses.

_Damnit, Tiger, you actually fucking trained me into reacting like this! We're having **words** when I get back!_

She wasn't particularly scared of Widow, at this point. Angry at her? Yeah. Aroused? Hell yeah. But scared? If Widow had wanted to hurt her, she would've by now. The whole bit about admiration meant that she was unlikely to really mess with her. At this point, Sophia figured the worst case would be ending up as a sex slave to the woman who was currently molesting her, at which point Armsmaster or Militia would track her down and rescue her. If she didn't escape first.

Widow finally moved to do more than touch her. Pushing the cloth upwards, Widow looped it back into the neckline and tied it securely. Once finished with that, she slid a hand around Sophia's back and unhooked the bra snap easily. The cloth fluttered to the floor.

Sophia was left breathing heavily in her open-front jacket, with her chest exposed to the cool night air. Her-admittedly average, though large for her body size-breasts were heaving with each gasp. Widow seemed content to just stand there, admiring her body. Sophia held out as long as she could, but the breeze across her nipples had them achingly hard and begging for attention.

"...fucking...do...something!" She ground out the words between clenched teeth. Widow chuckled once more, those blood-red lips curving up into a smile, before she stepped forward. Her face descended on Sophia's tits, and Sophia threw her head back and moaned as the gentle suction pulled at her. Widow's free hand was tweaking the other nipple, while the final arm was once again tracing the hard muscles on her stomach.

Then that arm began to descend. Slowly making it's way downwards, it didn't even pause once it reached her pants. Some quick movements and her zipper was down, the delightfully soft palm in her underwear and rubbing against her. Widow pulled back from her nipple, releasing it with a soft pop, and Sophia sucked in a harsh breath.

"Do you like the spider silk? I've tried it out myself, and I have to say, there's nothing quite like it." Widow smiled at her, her previously perfect lipstick somewhat smudged. A quick glance down showed that one of her breasts had a red lip imprint on it, based around her glistening peak.

The image had Sophia moaning once more. She'd have to get Tiger some bright lipstick like this- the idea of going around school with lip marks on her body, hidden underneath her clothes was an intense turn-on.

Widow took this for the approval it was, and slipped a finger inside Sophia. Then another. Then another.

Sophia very quickly figured out the downside to spider silk. There was absolutely no friction- she could feel the fingers pumping in and out of her, knew how good they _should_ be, and got an incredibly disappointing lack of heat. She whimpered, stretched beyond her usual capacity, but still not getting enough pressure.

Widow was outright smirking at Sophia. The bitch probably knew exactly what she was going through. Then Widow leaned forward and planted her lips right on Sophia's mask, no doubt leaving a bright red mark where the angry snarl of the mask stared back at her.

She'd have to wash that off before she went back to base.

The way that Widow was smiling at her, though- something was bothering Sophia. It felt familiar. The way she worked her fingers-

"I had a conversation with my friend, the other day. I brought you up, asked if she'd like to fuck you or not. Gave me this really funny look, laughed, and said I was free to bang you into next week whenever I wanted."

"I'm taking full advantage of that now. Maybe I should bring you back to her? Give you to her as a gift?"

All the little hints, all the little clues, came together in moments. The same walk, the same smirk, the way she even talked about predators- Sophia had the very same conversation with Tiger.

_Goddamn, sex makes me stupid._

Sophia didn't say that aloud. Instead, she led with something completely different.

"You have been hiding one giant fucking secret after the other, Hebert."

Widow froze. Her twisting, pulling fingers stopped their motions, and the digits inside Sophia halted. Then the free, clean hand reached up and tore Sophia's mask off.

Sophia took the chance to smirk at her Tiger.

It started out low. Quickly, though, it escalated in sound, and Widow-Taylor-was laughing hard. Her hand resumed its motions, once again pressing into Sophia. The other came to her own mask and pulled it off, the creepy red eyes giving way to the warm ones of Tiger. She wasted no time before she smashed her lips into Sophia's. A small battle for control ended with Sophia giving in, as always. Tiger pulled back, and her lipstick was completely smeared. Sophia flicked out her tongue-yup, that was the familiar taste of the stuff on her.

"I can barely believe it. Actually, no, I can believe it. This is just the sort of thing you'd do, Kitten." Tiger gently pulled her fingers away, leaving Sophia with a disappointing sense of emptiness- that was quickly filled once more, this time with warm flesh rather than the slickness of the silk. The quick change in texture and the delicious, wonderful friction finally brought Sophia to orgasm. Tiger was experienced by now, and muffled her screams with her mouth before they chad the chance to escape and alert someone.

When she was finally done, Tiger pulled back. She then began to untie Sophie-starting with the legs, letting her get her feet on the ground, continuing with the arms. As soon as she was completely released, Sophia _ripped_ the collar off. She took several seconds just to rub her neck and wrists.

Then she burst into action.

A punch to the gut, hooking her legs- in seconds Tiger was on the ground, with Sophia kneeling on top of her. She didn't pause for a second, pounding blow after blow into Taylor's stomach, driving her breath out of her. Taylor retaliated with a knee to her crotch. Still sensitive, Sophia flinched backwards, and that was all the opening Taylor needed to flip them. The armor was heavier than it looked, because Sophia was having trouble even trying to push against her hold. Then again, maybe it was the fact that her concentration was partially focused on holding back the damn tears that kept on trying to escape.

"Should've fucking known you were too good to be true." Sophia snarled the words ar the expressionless face above her.

"How long have you been relying on your powers to give you a confidence boost? You were nothing on your own." This time the jab hit closer to home. Taylor shifted, but kept stone-walling her. It pissed Sophia off to no end- she wasn't something to just be ignored!

"It's pretty obvious when you triggered. Guess the locker helped you out-"

"Kitten. Stop. You don't want to go there." Sophia's smirk grew a little wider, a little bit toothier.

"And why not? After all, it looks like the thing managed to shove some common sense into you- hiding your power from me this long must've been hard. Congradu-fucking-lations, you pulled one over on me! Better feel pretty damn good-" At this, Taylor's cold visage cracked, and some of the penned-in rage boiled through the surface.

"How do you think _I_ feel, Kitten!? The idol of my childhood is the same bitch who pushed me into a filthy, disease-ridden locker- the same goddamn hero who made it into the Wards!" Taylor's grip had been tightening throughout her speech. Sophia glanced at the,; she was pretty sure she'd have bruises later. How would she hide those in school? In fact, her shirt-

"Don't you fucking _dare_ ignore me, Kitten. You don't get to bitch about me holding back, then try and flinch away when I do the same."

"Right now, I'm pretty fucking angry. I want to do my best to smash your fucking face in. I want to tie you up and just walk away. I want to throw you in jail and leave you to rot."

"I _want_ to do all those things. But I'm not going to. Because while I'm full of fucking rage right now, it's only right now. I pretty much forgave you for the locker a while ago. I know you have your own issues. I know, beneath your angry, fuck-the-world attitude you really like it when I just cuddle you. I know you enjoy it when when I pass you corny little notes in class. I know that if I attacked you right now, if I gave you any reason, you'd take it as justification for your little self-hatred thing you have going on, and then run away."

"I have better control than that. In the end, I _want_ the cute little moments when I make you blush and you try to play it off with some tough-girl crap more than I want to hurt you."

"I told you. You don't get to leave. No-one is going to take you away from me- not even myself."

Sophia just gaped at Taylor for several long, quiet seconds.

Then she started to laugh.

And if the hysterical laughter was just a way of covering up for the liquid Sophia had running from her eyes- well.

Tiger was kind enough to not mention it.

-

"So."

Both Sophia and Taylor were sitting on the ground, leaning against wall.

After Sophia's fit had subsided, Tiger had pulled away, crawled over to the wall, and simply slumped against it. Sophia just stared at the ceiling for several more seconds, before finally hauling herself up and joining Taylor. Sophia had sat down several inches from the other girl, and now both were simply staring at the dust motes they had kicked up with their scuffle dancing in the moonlight.

"Admired me as a kid, huh?" Taylor snorted, and pushed at Sophia with her arm.

"Yeah, and then you ended up in the Wards. What was the deal with that, anyway?" Sophia heaved a sigh, glancing at Taylor before looking away just as quickly.

"Turns out, shooting people with arrows is a pretty serious deal- even if they are criminals. It was either jail time or Ward time. It's pretty obvious which one I chose. When-and it's just matter of time- you finally make one stupid mistake and end up brought in, you'll probably get the same choice."

Silence reigned for a timeless moment.

Eventually, though, Taylor stretched her arms and yawned.

"I guess I'll just have to turn myself in early, yeah? Get you to give me a recommendation..." Now that the adrenaline had faded, she found herself pretty tired. Sophia snorted, than let out a yawn of her own.

"You don't need my recommendation, Tiger. You're badass enough on your own. Just tell 'em that you can do even more than you've already shown with actual bug control and they'll trip over themselves to make you a hero." Taylor was already drifting off to sleep, and could only mumble in response. Sophia turned her head to look at the girl beside her. Then she slowly, carefully slid across the wall towards her, and gently leaned into her side.

Taylor's arm came up automatically, draping itself over Sophia's shoulders. Sophia settled her head into the crook of Taylor's neck, closing her own eyes as well.

"You'll have to wear lipstick more often. You pull it off well." And with that, Sophia was out.

Taylor opened her eyes, glancing down at the shorter girl, already starting to snore softly. Then she closed her own once more. A small smile made its way across her lips.

Soon enough, the room held two unconscious teenage heroes. As the night dragged on, they dreamed of spiders and shadows, while the moonlight glimmered across two abandoned masks.


	9. Stranger in the Restroom!

_There is something seriously wrong with me._

I breathed deeply as I walked down the street. The unending stream of people flowed around me, stepping to the side without so much as glancing at my face before they merged behind me.

My power was bullshit.

A lot of practice and experimentation had told me a lot about what it did- and how absolutely insane it was. Basically, whatever I did was normal.

It sounds odd, and kind of... Weak. At least until you really think about it.

Whatever I did was normal- _anything_ I did was normal. If I walked up to someone and punched them in the face, they wouldn't be mad at me, or hit me back, or even react to me- because it was perfectly normal that I was there, it was perfectly normal for me to punch them, and it was perfectly normal for me to walk off and leave them bleeding. I was so normal, so completely boring, that their minds didn't register me as something out-of-place. They wouldn't have an explanation for why they were suddenly on the ground with a broken nose, but it didn't matter to me.

When my power was on, I was scenery. I was part of the background- every action I took was as natural as the sun being bright or shadows being dark.

It scared me, when I finally figured it out. I could get away with anything. There were no consequences. The only thing that could reveal me were cameras- and even then, they couldn't stop me.

It took a lot of thought to decide what I'd do with my power.

In the end, it boiled down to doing what I had before; get Aisha away from our mother, and help her live a full life. I just had another method of doing so.

That was how I found myself stealing. I'd walk into a house, take money and jewelry right in front of people, and leave.

I avoided houses with security systems. Cameras had no trouble recording me, and my power didn't work through film. Everything else was fair game.

A couple of months later, and here I am. Robbing people was as simple as stopping them with an arm-grab, then pulling out their wallet while they blinked in confusion. I regularly tripped assholes and watched as they bled just for laughs. I didn't reflexively flinch at being caught while doing something 'wrong.'

But even then, what I was about to do was on a whole other level of bad.

I didn't have time to keep a relationship going. Between attending an online college, looking after Aisha as best I could from a different house, working a nine-to-five job and dancing to the tune of Child Services, I had absolutely no opportunity to form a relationship. Despite that, I was a healthy young male, I wasn't a virgin, and I had the power to get away with practically anything.

It was a surprise I hadn't considered this earlier.

Still... What I was about to do wasn't excusable. I didn't want to even think it, but the word 'rape' kept popping into my thoughts.

Was I really going to do this?

Winslow High, my old pathetic excuse for a school, loomed in front of me. I took a moment to just look at it, and really _think_ about what I was going to do.

Then I sighed and started walking forward. I'd come this far; no reason to back out now.

As the doors swung open, I couldn't help but remember my first theft- and what I'd thought when I opened a door to see a family of four sitting down at a dinner table, laughing and smiling.

_I've come this far. Too late to back out now._

-

Was every single girl in this school afraid of being alone!?

The earlier trepidation had been replaced entirely with annoyance. Every single student I'd seen so far was in a group or a public place. The hot blonde? Busy chattering with her shrill friends. The quiet brunette? Reading- in the middle of the cafeteria. The tall redhead? Flirting with the jocks.

Damnit, it looked like I wouldn't be able to do what I'd come here for in the first place!

The bell rang, and the kids begin filtering back into their classrooms. My chances were dwindling with each second, and at this point, I was pretty sure I'd walk out unsatisfied. I'd do one more round of the school, see if there were any girls hiding in the cracks.

Yeah. Right.

The first floor was full of classrooms. Any activity down here was going to be noticed, so I skipped it entirely. The second floor was much less active, but there was no-one outside the classrooms beyond a group of teens getting high in an empty room.

The third floor was completely abandoned, it seemed, but I started checking around anyway. Hope springs eternal, and all that crap. Unsurprisingly, the dusty rooms were empty. The stairwells were empty. The roof was locked. I was just about ready to flat-out quit and try again some other day, but at this point there was only two more rooms and the bathroom to check.

The rooms were empty. The bathroom was not.

As I opened the door, I could hear shuffling. I was pretty damn surprised- who would be up on the third floor bathroom after lunch? I glanced inside, expecting a drugged-out teen gibbering in the corner.

I found something completely different.

She was pretty tall- in fact, she probably was approaching the six foot mark. Despite that, the first word that popped into mind was 'mousy.' The kind of girl that always walked around with hunched shoulders, eyes carefully avoiding contact which others, and unwilling to speak beyond what was absolutely required. She even looked the part- thin, long brown hair, large eyes behind glasses, and not much cleavage.

The initial burst of glee at actually finding a girl was fading quickly. The doubt was returning- she looked... Fragile. She was hunched over the spraying sink defensively, her hair plastered to her back with some kind of liquid. Her shirt was pretty wet as well, and the sickly-sweet stench of juice permeated the room. A spill? It would explain her lateness, but how would she have gotten it on her back?

A quiet sniff broke into my thoughts. Her face was scrunched up in emotion- holding back tears?- but her hands were gently combing through her hair, returning to the sink to wash off juice stains before returning to her locks and resuming their motions. Her movements were smooth and gentle, and it was only once she started struggling to reach the hair between her shoulder blades that I noticed I had simply been standing there, watching.

It looked like she was having a pretty shitty day. I could make it better- and even if it was a justification, I could at least help her out.

I stepped forward.

-

_Fucking Emma. Fucking Sophia. Fucking Madison!_

Today had been going so well, too. I had avoided the trio throughout the morning. Coming to school just late enough that they'd have no time to harass me, while still making it to class, was tricky, but I'd made it perfectly today. I had dodged them throughout all four hours, making it in and out of classrooms moments before and after the bell had rung. Sliding past them in the hallways, staying out of sight- I was doing so well!

And then they'd found my hiding spot. I'd been using this bathroom for the past few days, and it looked like my negligence had finally caught up to me. I should've switched earlier! Now my shirt was soaked, and my hair... My Mom's hair...

I didn't cry. Mostly because I was far beyond that level of response- the trio had beat it out of me long ago. But this was the closest I'd come since the locker. I couldn't even reach all of it without my brush, which was at home in my own bathroom.

My eyes burned.

Then I felt _something_ move my hands away from my hair. The water spraying from the sink splashed, and then there was pressure on my scalp.

My hair was being stroked, something going through the area I had been struggling to reach. The sensation was... Nice. I hadn't been touched by, well, anything this intimately since Emma had betrayed me. I relaxed into it, the tense frown on my face slowly relaxing, the burning behind my eyelids retreating. The pressure retreated, the water splashed, and the feeling returned. It repeated, until the front of my bangs were being gently tugged on, and a small amount of water was running down my face. The touch fell away, and this time the water was shut off. I just stood there, relaxed, enjoying life as the bathroom door opened and closed-

Wait... What?

I blinked my eyes open. What had just happened? I had been washing out my hair, and then... Something touched me!?

Panic was slowly fighting it's way through my dazed mind. I would have heard someone entering the room- wait, I _had_ heard someone entering the room! Why hadn't I reacted? What was going on?!

The door opened again as I tried to figure out what had happened to me. The gentle pressure on my hair returned, but this time it was picking up water. Paper towels fluttered by my shoulder, falling into the nearby trash can. Once my hair was mostly dry, the touch returned to combing through my hair, gently rubbing against my skin until it hit my shirt, at which point it just ran along the shirt. It was pretty darn distracting- my thoughts kept twisting from the weird occurrences earlier to how nice this felt. My eyes blinked open-when had they shut? And when had that roll of paper towels appeared on the sink?- only to close again as the touch reached the bottom of my hair once more, only to continue running down my spine.

This time, the touch reached my pants, and then slid back up. Under my shirt.

Wet warmth ran along my back. It brought my shirt up with it, the hem rising with the feeling. The caress stopped at my shoulder blades, tapping for a moment. Then my bra fell to the floor. The heat crossed over my ribs, coming to cup my small breasts. The pressure rolled for a moment, massaging my chest, before twin points of warmth pressed against my nipples, tweaking and gently pulling. I couldn't hold it- I moaned, loud and clear.

The strokes paused, before picking up again with greater intensity. One breast was abandoned as the touch slowly slid down my side, sending shivers through my body. It hit my waist and continued down, gliding into my pants and underwear, pausing only to gently scratch the small patch of hair I permitted to grow, before continuing further- and then sparks erupted in my vision as the touch ran across my slit, almost pushing down as it cupped my crotch. I gasped, and for a moment I lost feeling in my legs and tilted backward, only to press into a warm wall. It almost swayed under my weight, but it held firm- and then the pressure on my pussy was moving, grinding against me.

For a long moment, I just leaned against the warmth behind me, enjoying the touches on my body. Then part of the pressure below slipped inside me. It curled, rubbing against my walls, and then thicken, more joining it.

I came. Stars flashed in my eyes, and pleasure erupted through my body like a volcano. My head fell back and I moaned, only for my lips to be covered, something wet and writhing entering my mouth. My legs almost collapsed, with only the pressure against my skin holding me up. The feeling inside me retreated, and a I could barely notice my pants and underwear being pulled down. The cold shock of porcelain against flesh brought some of my mind back- and the sharp, almost tearing pain as warmth thrust into me brought the world back into focus.

The pain was intense- for a moment, all I could do was breath into the thing covering my lips. It faded quickly, transforming into a dull ache, centered around the pressure inside of me.

Then it pulled back.

The feeling of pleasure quickly overwhelmed any remaining pain, and I whimpered plaintively as it left me almost completely, only a small amount left inside. Suddenly, it rushed back in, filling me to the brim and then some- the push forced my breath out in a small huff, and I reflexively squeezed. The feeling retreated, only to slam back in, and again, and again, until I was lifted off my feet a little with each thrust. The only sound I could make was quick inhalations, followed by small squeaks as the warmth rammed into me. Both of the earlier points had repositioned themselves on my hips, and were pulling me into each push. I had to brace my arms on the sink, gripping it tightly to avoid slipping. I could see myself in the mirror- mouth hanging open as I panted and yelped. The shirt that was trapped under my arms, my meager breasts bouncing with each push.

It didn't take long for me to hit my peak. Within minutes the coil of pleasure in my gut had tightened until it was at the snapping point- and then pressure slipped down from its grip on my waist to press against my clit.

Once more, the world exploded. My muscles seized, refusing to move, and a I could feel my eyes roll upwards. My insides were desperately clenching around the warmth in me, only for it to retreat quickly. Moments later, I could feel splashes of warmth against my back, but all I could focus on was the incredible feelings running through me.

Until I blacked out.

-

When I awoke, I was resting against a wall. My clothes were on, and both my backpack and shirt had been somewhat washed of juice. For a moment, I wondered why I was sitting on the floor of a bathroom- before my memories rushed back.

What the hell.

I was torn between sheer horror and trying to keep my toes from curling at just the thought of what I'd experienced. I'm pretty damn sure I'd been raped- by someone who had taken the time to help clean my hair, spent a large amount of time on foreplay, and had been more than gentle and eager to please with the actual sex.

Except he had still raped me.

I was too tired to give this the full thought it deserved. I wanted to be horrified- and I was. I also wanted to not be aroused when remembering what he had done to me, but I wasn't quite getting that.

Fuck it.

I stood up and grabbed my backpack, flinging it over my shoulder. I strode over and pressed against the door, only for it to fail to open. Frowning, I pressed harder- and suddenly the resistance vanished, leaving me to yelp and fall forward. _Something_ caught me, and helped me to my feet. Glancing around to make sure no-one had caught that particular embarrassment, my gaze fell on a sign attached to the restroom door.

RESTROOM OUT OF ORDER

Well. At least my ghost was kind enough to make sure I slept in peace.

I was in no mood to handle the rest of my classes, so I gave up and just went out a back door and went home.

It took me until a block away from my house to realize what, or rather who, must have caught me when I fell.

-

I sighed as I watched Taylor leave. Her back pack had given me her name. She had been perfect- a virgin, but I had taken care of that relatively easily. She had been incredibly responsive, and her face when I had brought her to orgasm...

I would probably try this again. Come back tomorrow, and see if she returned to the same bathroom. My 'blandness' only worked so well- if I limited it to singular incidents, such as stopping someone on the street, their mind would rationalize it away as an impulse or a sudden thought or any of a million things. When I interacted with someone extensively like I had with Taylor, it wasn't so easy for them to explain away their actions. My power prevented them from actively connecting the idea of a Stranger to me, but the difference between knowing that there's a Stranger in the room and having me in the room isn't very big. Once they realize that I exist, all the actions that my power forces them to consider completely natural-such as being fucked by me- can be attributed to me once I stop interacting with them.

So, Taylor knows that I screwed her. If she shows up there again tomorrow- well, that's as good as an invitation.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

Still, even as I walk home, more relaxed than alive been in weeks, I'm hoping she'll show up again tomorrow.


	10. Headaches

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god.

I...I couldn't really see anything through the stars flashing by my eyes. Not that the ceiling would be particularly interesting, but it might've been something to focus on past the pleasure coursing through my body.

I hadn't expected this, to be certain.

-

I rubbed at my temples. The headache was back, and with a vengeance. I wasn't finished, but surely I could afford a short break? It wasn't like the paperwork would be running away from me, after all.

I leaned back in the plush leather chair, sighing as the chair fell with me. One of the few luxuries I allowed myself, the chair was one of my greatest decisions ever. Stuffed to the brim with what felt like angel feathers, set on the smoothest swivel I'd ever experienced and the ability to lean back until I was nearly flat. Altogether, I would happily murder someone to keep this chair. A moment's direction had the lights turned down to their lowest setting, until I could only see the dimmest outline of the insect tanks and the door. Starlight shined through the window behind me, not quite bright enough to bother my headache.

The city was a wreck, no two ways about it. After the incident with Coil, and my... Very final solution to the problem, I had risen to the position of, of, _something._

The mayor had left the city with his family, the police department was gutted, the Protectorate was busy working as replacements for the police, and most of the elected officials were either in a different city or rotting in a gutter somewhere.

Coil had been working to fix it, but his version of 'fix it' was rising in power in the Protectorate while using the Undersiders as temporary lords until he could afford to pull in the resources from the PRT to fix the city and place himself in a position of power, from both the legal side and as a criminal mastermind.

Eventually, the city would return to its previous condition, and would likely end up even better. But it would be the work of months, perhaps years, to pull that off, and people were dying in the streets _now._

I couldn't let that stand. When I pushed for more resources, he gave them to me grudgingly. When I organized the Undersiders into an actual council, rather than seperate rulers, he found excuses to disrupt meetings. When I built homes for my people, give them safety and comfort, only to find them burned to ground in the middle of the night?

That was the last straw. Coil had to go.

It made me feel much better to learn that he was planning for my death. It didn't mean much in the end, when I pointed a revolver at his forehead and stared into his eyes while I pulled the trigger, but it helped.

It was a difficult few days after Calvert's death. Lisa had taken full control of his resources and had almost tripled them in a week, but people were more complicated. Mercenaries, armed with dangerous futuristic weapons were suddenly out of a job. There was a... _Monster_ in Coil's basement that sounded scarily like a human girl when it burned in tinker-tech nuclear fire. The Travelers had fought to the last man to prevent it, and Brian had lost an arm and a eye. Regent wouldn't ever leave his wheelchair, and Aisha...

You don't ever recover from watching another human being die. At least when Coil had met his end at my hand, I knew he was a horrible person who would torture me to death, given half a chance.

Genesis couldn't even move her wheelchair on her own. Some kind of bone-wasting disease, according to Lisa. Either way, Aisha made horrible jokes about wheelchairs and comparisons to Regent's new ride made her boyfriend laugh, but no matter how untouched she acted, I would always remember the sight of her crying into her brother's good shoulder after the fight. Brian didn't even hesitate with half of his body and face melted away to hug her as best he was able.

Our relationship hadn't ever resumed, after that. I was suddenly the leader of the Undersiders and the de-factor ruler of a city, and he was struggling to learn how to use his left side for everything. We didn't have the time.

So here I was, living out of a chair on the second floor of a pseudo-orphanage, directing the lives of tens of thousands. Buying supplies and equipment, reading reports on the various states of Lisa's investments and estimated costs for city repairs, overseeing the operations of teenage superhumans who were suddenly given command over multiple city blocks. Talks with the heroes, subtly trying to help Parian reconnect with the rest of the city rather than walling herself and her family into a nigh-unbreachable fortress made of string and Fletchette's power.

I hadn't been outside in two days, and the most entertainment I'd had recently was when Regent rolled his way into my office and forcibly walked me to a bed.

There was a lot of uncomfortable questions, and I had a moment of panic when I realized that Alec had subtly felt out all of the Undersider's reflexes for as long as we'd been with him until he knew our bodies as well as his own... But he hadn't used them for anything I didn't approve of beyond my forcible rest.

Of course, there was a level of trust that had been violated that could probably never be regained, but he had shrugged and declared that it was worth it.

...I wouldn't call myself touched by the sentiment, but I understood what he meant. Taking care of teammates was important, especially when they couldn't, or wouldn't, take care of themselves.

I may not trust him with my secrets, but I would never hesitate on the battlefield.

Since then, I've dialed my workday back, and gotten more rest. What were previously migraines had become headaches.

There was a commotion downstairs. Probably the children heading to bed. In a few more minutes, one of my assistants would be up here, scolding me in whispers and handing me pills before sending me off to bed like a child.

The noise, however, refused to die down. In fact, it became somewhat louder, only this time it came from the window.

Confused, I began sweeping the area with my bugs. Accepting the small tinge of pain that came with focusing during a headache, I located the children and my assistants. They were moving outside in a somewhat orderly manner, but there were the kids who liked to run ahead and those who trailed behind the rest. Not a forced relocation, and one the kids sounded like they were eager for, given all the excitement. What was happening?

One figure broke off from the rest, and made it's way back into the house. Meanwhile the kids were loading into vans- how had those come so close without alerting me?- fighting over who got to sit with who. My assistants were in amongst the horde, breaking up altercations and separating the children. Neither had crushed their alarm boxes, so they at least thought that, whatever this was, it was safe.

The lone figure had reached my door. Further examination told me that they were smaller than me with short, loose hair, and either male or under-developed female. No costume, either. Nowadays, the people I knew personally were scarce, and those that knew about this office could be counted on two hands. None of them fit the description.

I readied some of the more dangerous bugs in their tanks, and positioned a beetle near the switch to open the lids. This didn't seem like an attack, but I could never be too careful.

The figure slowly turned the handle, and gently began to open it. They paused when the door was only half open, still obscured from my eyes. Then they-she-laughed.

"Feel free to let your army stand down, Miss Paranoid." Even before she was finished, I knew who it was.

Lisa finished opening the door, nowhere near as slowly as she started. Walking into the room, I finally knew why I hadn't known who was approaching. Tattletale never came to my office without her costume on. Casual clothes only appeared when she dragged me out for ice cream or a walk in the park or some kind of non-cape activity.

Lisa paused halfway to my desk, her features still partially obscured by the low lighting, and just looked at me.

"...You're thinking something uncomplimentary. I can tell." That forced a small laugh out of me. Lisa crossed the remainder of the distance, and walked around the desk to settle against the edge, facing me.

"Just because I keep fun and business properly separate does not mean I can't visit." She tells me with an air of mock-offense, before the frown breaks into another smile at my next laugh.

There's a minute of silence. I close my eyes again and revel in the quiet. Lisa, unlike some, can realize when I want some peace.

"So, I hear you've been working hard." The moment is broken, and the small smile I was wearing fades into a frown. Of course she's here about that. She should already know that Regent intervened and I've backed off on my work hours, so why is she pestering me about it?

"First of all, it takes more than a sentence for someone to be bothering you about anything. Secondly, while you've gotten better, you still aren't good. You're in the dark because of a headache. _Normal_ workdays don't end in headaches."

Like she's one to talk. She has headaches daily, no matter how much I insist that I don't need her power on all the time. Besides, my workdays aren't exactly about normal things. Lisa sighs in exasperation, and rises from her position.

"That's completely different, and you know it. I can't stop the headaches that come with my power, while you're overworking your brain until you can't keep up and it turns into pain. Even if you aren't doing a 'normal' nine-to-five job doesn't mean you need to end every day in agony." She's slowly pacing around me, coming to a stop between my head and the window.

Even though she says it's different, it really isn't. She has headaches from overworking her power, just like she's claiming that my headaches are from regular overwork. They have the same cause, even if the vector is different. She can't ask me to dial it back when she won't do the same.

"I guess that just means that I'll have to slow it down as well. That way, neither of us will have to deal with migraines." Her hands descend to my head, and begin gently rubbing at... Oh. That's nice. That's a very nice feeling, and I can feel the throbbing disappearing with every gentle touch.

Of course, that doesn't stop me from realizing that she was likely aiming for this result from the beginning. I played into her hands; not anything different from the usual. When she starts to speak again, I can practically hear the smirk.

"It's nice that you're so resigned to it. It makes everything easier. Speaking of relaxing, would you come with me on a little trip tomorrow? The boardwalk is almost completely repaired, and for the time being, all of the shops and attractions are free, courtesy of yours truly. People need something to enjoy these days."

Smartass. Still, that sounds like a nice afternoon. It's been a long time since I could just watch a movie and relax, and the theater down at the boardwalk is rather nice. It'll only feed the rumor mill, but I can't particularly find it in myself to care at the moment.

"Ah? And what kind of rumors are these?" Lisa's voice sounds like it's coming from far away, barely penetrating the haze of comfort surrounding me. Still, I devote some thought to answering the question.

I'm pretty sure it started with Aisha or Regent. My assistants haven't exactly been helping with the situation, as Lisa almost always sees me to my door after our outings. Somewhere along the way, just about everyone who knows both my and Tattletale's civilian identities have come to the conclusion that we're dating.

The wonderful massage stops for a moment, before resuming their work. This time, there's something decidedly odd about Lisa's voice when she asks the next question.

"What, exactly, has led them to believe that we're dating?"

All of the trips together. Ice-cream, parks, walks, people seem to think they're dates. I don't exactly have the same experiences with the rest of the Undersiders, so others tend to assume it's something more.

Just don't acknowledge it, and they'll have to quit eventually. It's what I've been doing.

The rubbing stops once more, and this time it doesn't start up again. I can almost feel the frown Lisa has as she looks at me. Then a small laugh makes it's way out of her mouth.

"Sometimes, even though you're very smart, you can be _incredibly_ dense."

Lisa moved quickly, swinging around from the back of the chair to the front. Before I really register her change I position, there's a soft weight in my lap and warm hands on my cheeks.

I open my eyes to see Lisa's face all of a foot away from mine.

For a moment I'm dumbstruck, and all I can really register is her features. In the moonlight, her pale skin almost glows, highlighting the light dusting of freckles. Her eyes are crinkled in a smile, the light green highlighted by the short golden threads falling about her head and tickling my skin. My eyes, of course, choose to lock on her lips. There isn't any lipstick on them today, so they look almost washed-out in the lighting. Involuntarily, my mind flashes to certain thoughts I've had.

Not long after Brian had his injury and we drifted apart, Lisa began to spend more time with me. More non-business time, to be precise. Before, everything had been about justifying the eventual betrayal I was planning, then the Endbringer happened and my focus fell upon Coil. When she approached me with a plan to subdue him, I had little choice but to agree, and every meeting thereafter was an excuse for more coordinating and planning.

After Coil was gone, however, and things began to approach a stable point, Lisa would often drag me outside my workroom to see the sun. As the only person who I had regular, non-work related contact with besides my father, well...

I had realized that I liked girls in sixth grade, when Clemence Bordue had spent a year at our school. High-class, as such things went, and certainly out-of-place in the rougher area of the Bay our school was located in, she attracted a following of boys immediately. She as quiet and self-contained, and didn't make friends with anyone, but even without showing the slightest spark of interest her soft, elegant features had a group of admirers writing love poems and pining over her at every moment.

It was a big shock when I found myself admiring her as well.

I hadn't exactly been the most popular of girls, only part of the 'in-crowd' because of my friendship with Emma, but even I heard the hurtful comments and slurs against gays. I kept away from Clemence, never mentioned my attraction to anyone, and watched her go from afar with sad eyes at the end of the year.

Darrel Rand in my seventh grade class had at least assured me I could have a publicly acceptable partner. Muscles on men looked just as nice as soft features on a woman, I found.

Still, with Lisa my only companion, it didn't really surprise me when I started _really_ noticing exactly how good she looked in her costume, and how nice her smile was, rather than the passive admiration I had before.

I kept silent about it, even if Lisa must've noticed. She didn't mention anything, so I assumed she would be happy to let my feelings die a quiet death and keep our friendship.

With her on my lap, late at night, only inches away from me, I couldn't help it. I wondered exactly what those lips would taste like, what her skin would feel like if I ran my hands along it. Mixed with the lust and wonder was shame- there was no way Lisa was missing this, with the up-front view she had.

When I was finally able to tear my eyes from Lisa's mouth to her eyes, she looked amused. It hurt a little, to know that she found my feelings funny, but-

"You are such an **idiot**, Taylor."

And then her mouth was on mine and I didn't have to imagine the sensation anymore. I hadn't had much experience with kissing, since Brian was my only previous partner, and we never progressed much past light kisses that made my lips tingle and little bit of soft touching.

This was very different.

There wasn't any hesitation on Lisa's part. When her skin made contact and I gasped in surprise, she took the opportunity to insert her tongue into my mouth. For a moment, I could only sit there in shock, while Lisa explored. Then I started participating.

She tasted like pears, I decided. She probably had some before she arrived. This train of thought was completely obliterated by the part of my mind focused on exploring Lisa. Hesitantly at first, then with a bit more confidence, I stroked with my own tongue. I had heard this sort of kiss referred to as a 'battle,' a struggle between flesh, but it wasn't like that at all. Gentle touches, soft probing, enjoying the feeling of having someone else so very, very close to you...

It ended far sooner than I would've liked, even if my lungs disagreed. When I opened my eyes once more, Lisa had leaned back, breathing heavily. Her now-wet lips glimmered, and I found myself reaching up to pull her back down for more.

It was even better the second time, now that I knew what to do. Without needing to completely concentrate on the kiss, I found my hands wandering, trailing down from Lisa's shoulders to her sides, to her hips. I pulled the shirt up slowly, reaching underneath, caressing the skin. Sliding back upwards, my thumbs rubbing against her ribs, nails gently scratching. I could feel Lisa gasp into my mouth. When I finally hit the edge of a bra, she was shivering. When I teasingly started trailing my fingers back down, Lisa pulled away with a growl, a string of salvia falling against my shirt. In two seconds she had her shirt off, and in another her bra was following it to the floor. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small vial, popped the lid and brought up to her nose. A single sniff-was that some kind of brownish-green powder?-and it was capped, and set much more gently onto the desk behind her.

Then she was once more pressed against me, hands pulling my head into hers.

Without the bra in the way, I was more than happy to bring my hands up. Lisa was barely an A-cup, not even a handful. That just made it easier to access all of her chest at the same time. Thumbs brushed against her nipples, and she made yet another pleased noise into my mouth. Rubbing in circles, before transitioning to gentle plucks had Lisa making all sorts of sounds, and before long I could feel her grinding against me, her groin pressing into my stomach. My shirt had ridden upwards, and even through the tight jeans Lisa was wearing I thought I could feel dampness.

Sliding one hand away from the teasing of her breasts, I dipped down to unhook the button and open the zipper. Pushing my hand in, reaching between the soft cloth of her underwear and her flesh, my fingers glided over soft, downy hair to reach the source of the liquid. Trailing two fingers up and down Lisa actually had to back away from my lips to pant, before she pulled herself into me and started to nibble at my neck, licking before biting, then kissing the red mark.

I rewarded her with my hand. The fingers drew back, before pushing _in_, drawing a high-pitched squeak from Lisa. Pressing forward, deep as I could reach, until my fingers had disappears entirely into her. Scissoring and stroking, massaging her walls even as I ground my palm into her clit, it sent Lisa into a fit, her hands moving to clench hard enough around my arms to leave bruises. She let out a wail until she muffled it in my chest, pressing her face into the cloth. My other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into my hand. She was clenching and shivering around my fingers, instinctively attempting to ride them with her hips, almost at her limit.

Within moments, she was biting down on my shirt, groaning into the fabric, tensing hard enough to nearly hurt. Then all of the energy left her in an audible whoosh, as she breathed deeply. I gently pulled out, prompting shivers from Lisa. I brought it up to my face, and examined the liquid on my hand. Tentatively, I brought it up to my mouth and gave it lick, testing the taste. It wasn't bad, certainly, but it wasn't good either. It had a distinctive taste, and that was it. Pulling the rest of my fingers into my mouth, I sucked them clean. Spit was easier to clean, after all.

It was only when Lisa's grip on my hips tightened that I realized I had a spectator. A glance down showed that Lisa was hyper-focused on my mouth, wrapped around my fingers. When I realized exactly what my little show was doing to her, I couldn't help the grin. Slightly parting my lips, I made it clear to her that I was licking myself clean, the tip of my tongue darting out occasionally. Lisa bit her lip, barely even blinking until I pulled out my fingers with a wet pop.

For a moment, Lisa continued to focus on my lips, before she traced a path up to my eyes. We stared at one another, before the familiar smirk came to her lips.

She slithered backwards, sliding down my body until her knees hit the floor. With quick, efficient movements, she unzipped my pants. Was she going to...?

My pants and my underwear hit the floor at the same time. Immediately, Lisa dove down.

She was extremely eager, licking a wide swathe with the flat of her tongue before teasing me with the tip, tracing paths, before returning to my clit and sucking on it. Her hands rose up and rested on my thighs, thumbs reaching in to pull the folds of my slit apart, allowing her to reach even deeper with her tongue. It dove in and out of me, never resting, tingling and scratching and sending waves of fiery pleasure up my spine.

Throughout it all, Lisa's eyes remained on my face. Even when the pleasure forced all of the muscles in me to clench, when my vision would black out for a few moments, when I could focus once more I found her watching me. When I approached my climax, the tension in me ratcheting higher and higher, when my breath was coming out in short, heavy bursts, her eyes were locked on me. My hands clenched around the armrests hard enough to hurt, my body demanded I throw back my head in ecstasy, but I kept my gaze on her.

The world seemed to explode around green orbs.

-

Lisa made her way back up the chair. She ended up curled on my lap, her head resting in the crook of my neck.

For a moment, we just lay there, catching our breath and enjoying the afterglow.

"Just so you know, my power's disabled for another... Fuck, I don't know, it's about three hours total so it should be a while longer."

That brought up a whole slew of questions. And for once, I would have to verbalize them.

"How? Why?"

Lisa chuckled.

"Of course. You finally have to talk to me, and you do it in one-word sentences. Let's just say that someone needed to fall out of love, I pointed out that love was just a series of chemical reactions and therefore something that could be trained into- or _out_\- of a person with the right tools, and she now owes me a favor or two."

"As for why, well, you know how my power is on all the time. You also have heard me complain about things I didn't want to know, like that time Aisha and Alec tried out-"

"No." Lisa outright giggles at that. She might've found it funny, but I did _not_ need to know anything about Regent's sex life, let alone my former boyfriend's sisters.

"Anyway, it works that way during sex too. I get too hot to repress my power, it gives me too much info, I cool down enough to control it, and if I try to continue the whole cycle starts again. I thought I'd end up masturbating alone for the rest of my life. Oh, and it turns out that while I usually can't scan myself, a toy counts as something else- and the sounds and movements it makes are things I can scan. I know more about my vagina than I ever wanted to."

That's nice, but she shouldn't try to change the subject. She knew what else I was asking.

...

...oh yeah.

"Don't try to change the subject." Lisa's smile fades, and she sighs heavily.

"Why did I jump you?" Her smile returns, but this time it's bitter.

"I told you you were dense, and I meant it. Those _were_ dates. I was trying to get you to ask me out yourself, so that I could..."

Lisa hesitates. Usually she isn't so reticent with information. Whatever she has to say... She visibly steels herself, then expels all the information in a rush.

"I wanted you to ask me out so I could refuse! I wanted you to make the first step, because how can I just say 'hey, I can't actually have proper sex with you, but I want you to be my exclusive girlfriend anyway?!' I mean, I could give you some orgasms and maybe fake my own, but I _know_ all about how doing that ruins relationships! I've seen it happen! Maybe if I told you why, and _you_ decided you were okay with it I could have you, but I can't ask you to do that myself!"

Lisa is nearly choking out the last few words, and I can definitely see tears. She shoves her head back into the crook of my neck, where I can feel the wetness against my skin.

"Because I couldn't ask you to do it, I had to trick you into asking instead so I could turn you down and hurt you. I was afraid to be selfish, so I went and did something even more selfish! I got the suppressant today, the new buildings between our territories were finally open, the kids would be moving out of your house and into a real orphanage, I just, I- I did it on impulse! You were here, and I knew you liked me, and I was happy, and you're so casual when I read you! Even Brian freaks out and leaves when I show him just how close to mind-reading I can get, but you just let me do it! You don't even care- you trust me so much, and, and I tried to hurt you..."

Lisa's outright sobbing at this point, while I'm trying to process the information.

When it finally comes through into a whole, I don't even hesitate. I've already been hugging her. I just squeeze her tightly and tell her.

"It's okay. I understand why you tried to do it, and even though I don't like how you did it, I can forgive you for it."

That's how it works with Lisa. She'll see right through anything I try to hide from her, so direct and to-the-point is the only way to be completely honest. She knows that, so she doesn't get offended when I say something that sounds bad, or have to try and puzzle out what I mean and strain her power.

This time, though, the truth just makes her cry even harder.

I can't do anything about that, so I settle down for a wait.

-

A while later, Lisa's cried herself out. She's still awake, but now she only sniffs every once in a while.

I'm still holding her, when she starts to stir. She pulls back slightly, staring intently at my face.

"...You really are okay with it?"

I don't even have to answer, this time. I can see the smile break out on her face, and I enjoy the feeling of trust and incredible _closeness_ that comes from knowing a mind-reader and being able to let them know, well, everything.

"I'm not a mind reader. We've been over this, Taylor." She can't help the snort of amusement, though, so I think this round is my win anyway.

"We'll see about that. Just you wait until tomorrow. I'll pick out the worst, sappiest movie available and force you to watch it with me. Then I'll explain all the horrible details behind the set, and how the director was fucking two actors at the same time."

Now I can't suppress the laugh. She'll do it, too.

I'm looking forward to it.


	11. Playing Dress-Up

"Come on! Stop hesitating and _get out here_, Chenum!" I yelled at the bedroom door.

"Alright, stop rushing me! I'll be out in a second!" I shook my head, exasperated. Lily had said that last time, too. And yet here I was, still on the couch, waiting. Heaving a sigh, I flopped back into the cushions. It looked like I'll be out here for a while yet. Still, if I had to wait for something, this would be my first choice.

It had taken a good week of badgering, pleading, and outright bribing to get Lily to agree to this. She was somewhat body-shy, even going so far as to prefer the lights off when we had sex. I had no idea why- Lily was perfect, every muscle toned, every small scar a testament to her strength. If only she would show off more often. I could make some absolutely fantastic clothes for her...

The sound of a door opening broke through my thoughts. Leaning forward, I waited for Lily to come out.

When she emerged, it took all I had not to start drooling.

I had gone for a classic; the belly dancer. Perhaps it would've been more appropriate for me to wear it (or at least more stereotypical) but I hadn't doubted that Lily could pull it off.

And hot damn, she pulled it off perfectly. Just like I predicted. Part of me enjoyed the smug feeling of being right, but the rest of me was focused on something far more important. Namely, Lily.

I knew she had some Asian in her family somewhere. Her eyes were every so slightly slanted, her skin just a tad closer to pale yellow than white. It didn't really bother me, beyond a bit of worry over what themes of clothing I could put on her without appearing gauche. Here, in the privacy of our own home? I could put anything on her I damn well pleased.

The dancer outfit itself was made of silk. Having foregone the common media colorings of blue and red, I went straight for sand colors. The former two wouldn't mix well with Lily's skin, but the variety of tans I could get? Those would be perfect.

The silks were all carefully composed. As it was, Lily was near completely covered, a dress of many pieces of fabric hanging from her. Layered atop one another, the current set-up was completely appropriate for street wear. It was thick enough to disguise any flesh beyond the hands and face, and with the veil pulled up only Lily's eyes would be exposed. Somewhat odd, but acceptable.

Right up until anyone realized what I had built into it.

"Alright. Are you ready?" Lily just nodded her head. I picked up the remote, hit the play button, and leaned back.

As the music started up, Lily took several deep breaths.

Then she started to move.

At first, it was only a gentle swaying of the hips. Hands held out to her sides, palms flat, facing the ground. Rocking side to side, each motion becoming stronger as the music became louder. Then the flute was joined by several drums, and Lily danced. Twirling, silk floating in air, long steps that became twists halfway through, her arms slipping through the air.

Pieces of the silk began to rain from her, as I untied thin knots with my power. Gently pulling them away from Lily as she danced in our living room, her costume slowly growing smaller.

The stomach was the first to be revealed. Sweat was already building up, gliding along her abs. Muscles jumped out against the skin, pressing themselves out with every one of Lily's turns. As the clothe floated away from her, more and more was revealed. Her sleeves detached, bit by bit, and her glistening skin was revealed to the light. The smooth motions of her body, cutting through the air, threads trailing behind, buffeted by the aftershock. Slowly releasing her, flying away at the whim of my power, exposing more and more of her. The song was reaching its peak, and I starting pulling quickly, the pieces of fabric floating around her almost disguising Lily from sight. Flashes of movement, glittering glimpses of flesh were all I could make out through the whirlwind surrounding her.

The flute held one more long note, before the sound cut out entirely. The silk fluttered to the ground, revealing Lily. She was frozen in the final pose, arms thrown wide, head tilted towards the ceiling. What had once been a thick costume was gone, with little left in its place. A few pieces hung from her shoulders, draping across her breasts. Several more slips hung from her waist, held in place entirely due to my power. Each wrist and ankle had a single length that trailed from her limbs, hanging limply in the air or lying on the ground. The veil disguising her mouth was still in place as well.

Despite technically covering the vital areas, nothing was hidden from view. The same sweat that gleamed across Lily's well-defined physique had infused the cloth, glueing it to her skin. Almost entirely transparent, I could see the darker colored bumps of her nipples clearly, and her lower half- the silk was pressed against her legs, giving me a nearly unobstructed view of her slit.

I couldn't hold back anymore. Standing up from the couch, I approached Lily with the quiet reverence usually reserved for holy figures. Now that I was standing, I could clearly see her face. Eyes closed, mouth open slightly while she panted. It was the slight smile that finally destroyed the remnants of my self-control.

Lily had all of a second to register the feeling of my arms wrapping around her before she was in my embrace, pulled tight against me. Her eyes snapped open, meeting with mine, right before my mouth descended on hers.

The silk between us made everything feel... Different. Instead of the usual slippery flesh, the soft cloth slid across my lips. The feeling of the silk pushing back, molding against me, was alien and oh so interesting.

Reaching out with my power, I used the remnants of her clothes to gently rub her skin. The cloth pressed against Lily with my direction, sliding across the sweat. Bunching the fabric, tightening it, tweaking Lily's nipples and clit had her reeling backwards to gasp. Her legs buckled and I followed her to the floor.

Never stopping with the teasing, I slid the veil away and kissed her properly. She pushed back eagerly, attempting to grind against the invisible touches. Her hands fumbled with my belt buckle, only to lose her grip as I pulled the two strips of cloth on her wrists together. The free-hanging sections tied themselves together expertly, ending in a neat little bow. Pulling back, I saw the most adorable confused expression on Lily's face. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Don't worry about it, Chenum. You've already made me more than happy by agreeing to dance- this is a reward for you." The pet name brought out a blush, before my lips met hers once more. Several discarded silks slithered across the floor, gathering into a bunch between Lily's legs. Writhing in a pile for a moment, the cloth soon compressed into a recognizable shape. A very stiff, very large cock. Wriggling forward like a demented worm, it crawled towards Lily. My right hand left the ground beside Lily's head, reaching for my creation. Once I had gripped it, the motion stopped. For all appearances, it looked like a silk dildo.

That was exactly what I intended to use it as.

The cloth massaging Lily's folds pulled away, leaving her exposed. Lily didn't have more than a moment to realize what had happened before I slowly pushed the dildo inwards. I could _feel_ her orgasm, her shivering translating even through her lips. The clenching attempting to overwhelm my power, and I had to focus to keep the dildo together. Lily pulled away and threw her head back, whimpering, and I watched as her arms gripped the floor tightly enough to outline each and every muscle. I couldn't help it- my head dipped down, tongue running across her shoulder, the salty taste greeting me.

Slowly, the convulsions died down, allowing me to slide more of the silken cock into her. Each inch prompted more shivers, until the whole thing was sheathed within her. Then I began the next step of my plan.

I backed away, taking a moment to remove my belt and shimmy out of my pants and shirt. Meanwhile, the forgotten stretches of cloth stuck to Lily's waist with sweat came alive. They pulled themselves across her skin to meet on the end of my faux-penis. Slowly building upon themselves, until a matching dildo extended from the base of the first, already damp from Lily's exertions.

Carefully, I positioned myself, then sank down. A breathy groan escaped me as I pushed myself to the limit. A little adjustment was needed, but finally my flesh met Lily's, our folds touching and scraping. The shock of pleasure as my clit scraped hers was electrifying, prompted yet another groan from me and a squeak from Lily. For a moment, I just ground against her, reveling in the slick sex rubbing against mine.

The cock within me started to change, shortening and thickening until I felt like I was about to burst. Just on the edge of discomfort, I formed small bumps for extra grip on the slippery silk. The pleasure was just a nice bonus.

One more moment, then I pulled back, the now double-ended dildo unable to move within me and pulling out of Lily. The cloth was soaked with Lily's juices, a much darker color than it was originally, but with my power it was stiff and strong. Pausing only for a moment once the head left Lily, I thrust forwards, diving back into her depths until our groins collided. The impact of our clits shot lightning through my spine, and Lily flinched with a loud wail. Pulling back, slamming forwards, becoming rougher and rougher until each impact nearly made my arms give out with pleasure, forcing Lily to bounce on the floor. She was barely holding on, each push forcing her breath out in small hiccups.

Suddenly, I imitated what I had done to myself earlier. The silk in Lily bulged, bumps appearing along the fabric. In seconds, Lily was screaming, unable to take the friction. Then I started twisting the fabric, drilling it into her depths without pause. The scream hit a higher octave, almost painful to my ears before her voice gave out and all she could do to express her pleasure was wrap her legs around my hips and her arms around my shoulders and pull me to her.

I couldn't move, but that was fine. If I couldn't move my body, well, I'd just have to move something else. The silk in us both went insane, writhing in place, thrusting itself, twisting, growing and shrinking at random. I let myself go, and my world dissolved into the feeling of a slick body against mine and the heat blasting through my core.

When it ended, neither of us could do anything more than breathe. Weakly, I rolled off of Lily, only for her to roll with me and end up on my chest. I had lost concentration, and the double-cock was nothing more than a pile of wet cloth next to my legs. Lily had untied the knots keeping her hands together at some point, and now each arm rested against one of my sides.

For a few minutes, we just rested. Then Lily pulled herself up, pulling her head to mine and kissing me fiercely.

"I love you." She said as soon as she pulled away. I grinned at her.

"I love you too. Not as bad as you thought it was going to be, was it?" Lily frowned.

"I'm sweaty, tired, I have clothing glued to me, and I probably can't make it to the shower on my own." I chuckled and she pouted at me, before a smile broke through. "Yeah, it was nice."

I smiled back, before heaving her off of me. Rising to my feet unsteadily, I pulled Lily to her feet. "Don't worry about making it there yourself- your ever-loyal girlfriend is here to help, Chenum."

Lily started hobbling towards our shared shower, taking a few steps with my help before she felt steady enough to walk on her own. Once she reached the bathroom door, she looked back. I was cleaning up the near-ruined silk, but I met her inquisitive glance with a raised eyebrow.

"I never really asked. What does 'Chenum' mean, anyway?"

"It's a term of endearment. It translates to 'love of my heart.'" If I hadn't been looking, I wouldn't have caught the silly grin and flush that crept across Lily's face before she entered the bathroom.

"Play your cards right, and maybe I'll let you play dress-up again!" I couldn't help the laughter. I heard the shower start up and the yelp as Lily forgot to let the water warm up _again_. A fond smile came to me, and I wondered what would be best for the next time.

Maybe a Tsundere cosplay. Even if I loved her, Lily could be pretty archetypical.

Still, I was looking forward to it. As my smile became a devious smirk, I thought of the latex I had seen in a recent catalogue.

Who knew what I'd put her in next?


	12. Three is a Crowd

I collapsed into bed, exhausted.

It had been a _long_ day at the hospital. Saturdays were always the worst. So long as people thought they could just swing by and have Panacea fix that 'ache in my back' or 'funny feeling,' and my personal favorite, 'can you heal this scratch while giving me an autograph and a picture?'

The last kind annoyed me. Well, no, all of them annoyed me, but it was the last kind I wanted to give a good reason to need a hospital. They were gold-diggers, looking for a way to brag to coworkers and friends. It didn't seem to occur to them that they could be taking time and attention away from those that really needed it.

I turned them down. Hard. Every single time. Yet they came back, either stupid or pig-headed enough to ignore my very clear 'not now, or ever.'

Carol could bitch all she liked about publicity. I wasn't putting up with shit like that when my workday was already too long. Every single time people like that bothered me, I became a little less certain about not handing out bouts of gonorrhea like candy.

...thoughts like that should worry me, but it had been especially bad today. Half the 'cases' I had seen were nothing but alarmists and fakes. Usually the staff was better about these things, but after the highway crash Thursday half of them were home and resting after sixteen hours of caring for multiple heavy-trauma victims. The other half were barely staying awake. It had been so bad I'd been called in on Friday, when I had made it very clear that I wasn't to be bothered on that day. I needed some time to myself. I couldn't heal every day, all day. I had homework, and Victoria, and... I needed something else to occupy my pretty pathetic life. God, was that really all I had? I needed a hobby or some-

"Aaaammy!"

Vicky burst into my room, and immediately most of the depression invading my thoughts was wiped away. The grin on her face had a matching smile appearing on my own. Usually, I could at least fight the aura somewhat, but today... I didn't want to. Didn't I deserve to be happy, at least for a little while?

"Amy! I'm going out to dinner with Dean! He's been an ass, ignoring me for that stupid history thing, but we're going to a nice place tonight, so I _guess_ I can forgive him, but he's gonna pay for the most expensive thing I can find on the menu. Anyway! I'm leaving, so don't have a party while I'm out, 'kay? See ya!"

And then she was out my door. Seconds later, the front door slammed behind her, marking her exit.

It was... Quiet.

Mark and Carol were out for some reason or another. I had the house to myself.

I pulled myself onto he bed properly, instead of half-hanging off of it. Flipping around, I stared at my ceiling, letting the silence wash over me.

Then I chuckled. Wasn't this pathetic? As soon as Vicky left me, I found myself without anything to do. I suppose I could browse the internet, or pull out a book, but I didn't really want to move. I was still basking in the leftover high from Vicky's excitement, enjoying the artificial feelings. Even acknowledging my own lack of a social life didn't kill the buzz.

Even when she wasn't around, Vicky still dominated my life. Her smile, her excitability, her simple view of the world... She was a lot like a puppy, actually. Always wagging her tail, happy to play with others, and eager to please.

Except she'd be more than capable of snapping a leash. The thought pulled a giggle from me. Vicky, pouting, arms crossed and a comically large frown on her face as I pulled her away from the newest interesting thing with a tug on a collar. The only way that would happen is if she let it.

...Vicky, in a collar. Collars had tags with the owner's name on them, right? A collar that had my name on it. Victoria, letting me put on a collar that marked her as mine. I'd have to get close, since Vicky had a good few inches on me in height. Reaching up, gently wrapping it around her neck, tightening it, Vicky's hands coming up to keep me from pulling it too hard... Vicky, looking down at me, smirking... Pulling me into a hug, squeezing me against her...

I shifted in my bed. A hand crept downwards, pulling at my pants. I had the house to myself, didn't I? There wasn't any reason not to.

Vicky in a collar. Vicky in _my_ collar. _Mine_. My hand finally undid the button of my jeans, drawing down the zipper and giving me access. Reaching into my clothes, gently gliding across the small patch of hair I kept neatly trimmed. Rubbing circles against my clit, jolts of pleasure snapping through my abdomen. Vicky looking at me with half-lidded eyes. That smirk. Leaning in. Meeting her lips. She'd have an arm around my waist and my arms, strong enough that I couldn't move. Her other hand would pull against my hair, pressing me into her. She'd control the kiss, keeping me there until I started to black out. Only letting me go seconds before I would've run out of air. I'd be panting for breath, but she'd be just fine. Then she'd lean in, pull me towards her again, gently bite down on my lip.

"Vicky..." I couldn't help the moan. My hand sped up, rubbing quickly, each swirl fanning the heat in my core. The other hand made it's way up beneath my shirt to gently rub my breasts, tingles shooting through my body.

Vicky would push me backwards onto a bed, and climb after me. We'd be naked, her stupidly large breasts hanging in the air, gently swaying as she crept towards me like a big cat. Coming up between my legs, pulling them apart, not breaking eye contact as she leaned down. Starting slow, teasing me, feather-soft touches, barely enough to feel until I begged for it!

"Please, Vicky!" The words came out louder this time. I wasn't usually vocal, but I had never felt so _hot._ The pleasure was starting to slam through my body, hitting me like never before. My hands were becoming more and more vicious in their movements. When had my fingers started pulling at my nipples? Vicky, tired of holding back. Attacking me with her tongue. Hitting every spot, fire shooting up my spine, legs pressing against the bed, hands clenching the sheets, looking down into her eyes, latching onto my clit and sucking, watching me scream, not stopping, loving me-!

"Aah! Victoria!" Pure _pleasure_ burned through me like a wildfire, I felt like I was coming apart at the seams, melting into the bed, unable to see, blacking out, teeth clenching so hard it _hurt_, the pleasure only enhanced by the ache of muscles, no end to it, nerves exploding!

I collapsed, unable to move. Aftershocks hit randomly, forcing exhausted muscles to twitch. The room swam in and out of view, colors lazily twirling.

What was that? I had never... This was so beyond anything I had ever... The feelings alone...

Sense crept back into my mind, and puzzle pieces started fitting together. The intensity, being forced to highs I had never experienced before. The way it was still lingering. I hadn't heard the door opening. Victoria was never quiet opening the door. So where?

Summoning up all of my strength, my head slowly turned. There, outside the window, was Vicky. Floating in midair, hands over her mouth, eyes as wide as saucers. For a long moment, we just looked at eachother.

Then she turned and _flew_, moving faster than I had ever seen her go before. As she left, so did the high.

Panic and terror flooded into its place.


	13. Three is a Crowd 2

I I made it all of three blocks before remembering that I had left my wallet behind. It only took one block returning to remember that I had locked the door when I had left out of concern for Amy. And I kept my keys to the house-right next to my wallet.

Damnit.

I walked the remaining two blocks in a huff, mildly annoyed. I could be flying, but mom had 'talked' with me about that a few days ago, after I had flown Amy and myself to school. Apparently, 'we shouldn't rub our powers in the faces of those without,' and 'the misuse of your powers presents you as immature,' and all of that other stupid crap. I'm gonna have to lay low for another week at least, and that makes this whole traveling thing so much more difficult than it needed to be.

Seriously, who would ever give up flying? Zooming through the sky, the shrill sound of the wind, everything so small beneath you- I had trouble not flying everywhere. Was a couple of 'unnecessary' trips so bad? I might just take tomorrow off and go fly around the outskirts of the Bay. Take a trip out over the ocean, skim the waves, maybe sunbath a bit. There couldn't be any gawkers two miles out over the sea, so I could get a full-body tan, too. Grab a pool floatie from the backyard, dump my clothes on it, then give the dolphins something to admire! If Dean was lucky, it might be something he'd get to admire as well. He'd have to be pretty damn apologetic at dinner tonight, though, ignoring me for a project. He should care less about Jewish people in Nazi Germany and more about his girlfriend!

...that sounded really bad, even in my head. Luckily I'm home, so I don't even have to justify it to myself! Hah!

Pleased with myself, I stepped around the side of the house and started floating upwards. A quick glance told me what I'd suspected- my window was closed. As awesome as the idea of being able to zoom off into the sky straight out of my room sounded, we lived by the sea. The nights got _cold._ Looks like I'll be knocking on Amy's window and begging for a favor.

Floating over a bit, I approached her window green curtains, all the way on the end. I could yell, but then Amy'd get pissed at me for yelling. If I just tap or wait for her to notice me, though, she'll have a heart attack. Amy was way too high-strung, but the wide eyes and squeak she made when startled was funny, so tapping it was!

I slide into the center of the glass, hand raised to knock. At least until I got a good look at what Amy was doing. Then shock wiped away all of the mischievousness.

...

...She was really going at it. Huh. We were sisters and I barged in on Amy all the time, I'd caught her doing this before. She'd always yelp and do the 'pull hand out and away like you're stealing from the cookie jar' kind of thing, like if she moved fast enough I wouldn't realize. Then she'd yell at me to get out, and I'd give her a smile and tell her to have a nice time and her cheeks would practically ignite. It was hilarious.

This was the first time I'd actually seen the act in-progress, as it were. Little gasps and moans, and arching into her hand before pressing back down into the bed, sorta humping the air in slow motion. She was actually slower than me- when I did this I started out hard and fast, and usually didn't last longer than a minute. I'd been here for two, I think? It was like a show; in fact, it was really hot-

"Vicky..."

Oh, _wow._ It turns out that hearing my name moaned out like that _really_ hits one of my buttons. The thrill of excitement goes straight to my stomach. Dean usually justs grunts and yells. Maybe if I told him to-

Wait, shit, don't think about sex with Dean! Think about sex with A- no! That's also wrong, think about what Amy just said! That was my name, so she's thinking about me while she gets off! This is bad, really bad. Also flattering and hot, but bad.

When I was growing up, I didn't have many friends. Triggering at eight in a game of basketball was pretty damn tame, but the aura was a fucking nightmare. All of my old friends, anyone new I met- it was so damn obvious that nobody was ever just my friend to be my friend, anymore. Nine times out of ten, they wanted to be close to the superhero scene. Even that one out of ten, my aura ruined. Ten times out of ten the aura would turn anyone who tried to hang out around me into a drooling, dazed zombie. I had to practically shake them to get them to respond to anything until I lost the happy and got angry, and then they'd all run away like Godzilla was after them. If it weren't for Amy, I'd have had a pretty shitty childhood. She fought through the aura, and made sure I wasn't sad, and was basically the best sister ever. Then we hit puberty, and suddenly it didn't matter if all the boys did was stand and drool, so long as they did it without a shirt. Then Amy beat them off with a stick and an angry flush, and she looked pretty damn good as an angry, frizzy guardian too.

I never did anything about it, of course. We were sisters, and people don't like it when sisters do that sort of stuff. I don't really care about what people think, so I would've tried anyway, but Amy didn't do that sort of stuff either. Boyfriends and girlfriends seemed beneath her, somehow. I'd have to beat up anyone who tried, anyway, so it worked out. So I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek and she'd yell at me and that was that.

Until now. I had thought she might've liked me back, once or twice, and then I might've asked her out, but I was never sure and thought I might've just been imagining it. Now I had a boyfriend who wouldn't conk out the moment I got excited, so I couldn't cheat with Amy! But she looked so _good_, lying on the bed, panting and squeaking and generally being incredibly cute and sexy.

"Please, Vicky!"

I actually shudder from the pulse that shoots down my back. Maybe I should interrupt? I could just call out her name- my hands slap over my mouth before I can finish opening it. If someone messed me up during a build-up this strong, I'd be really pissed. And Amy didn't like being found doing this, so she'd be double-really pissed. I... Guess I'll just let her finish.

She's speeding up, and the hand in her pants is really moving now. She's really pulling at her chest, too. Wouldn't that hurt? But Amy's really liking it, 'cause she's pushing up into her hand again, and she's not coming back down this time. I'm shivering with sympathetic pleasure, and I'm outside the room!

"Ah! Victoria!"

Now she's writhing, and I'm watching Amy orgasm, and it's the sexiest thing on earth. I thought that seeing Dean squirm under me was great, but this is something else. I actually have to clench my thighs, a little, after I hear Amy scream out my name. Dean wouldn't mind, right? Girl-on-girl sex is every guys dream, right?

Oh man, she's still shivering and twitching. It's been, like, a minute. That is insane. Maybe I should fantasize about myself, sometime, if it's this good. Now she's turning her head, and now she's looking at me.

...oh, right, I shouldn't be watching this. Amy'll get angry, and I watched the whole thing, and Amy always knows when I've done something I'm not supposed to! I should leave, right now!

Turning away from the window, I shoot off into the air.

-

After a little rest in the sky, I'm meeting up with Dean for dinner. I'm actually pretty distracted by the thing with Amy, so I barely notice where we're going, and I don't even remember to order the priciest thing on the me he until after I've gotten the lasagna. Now I'm gonna get fat and have to punish Dean in a different way!

Still, I keep on focusing on the Amy problem. What do I do about this?

Well, start with the basics, and work my way up. That's what Amy always tells me what she does when she's healing people, anyway, and I'm kinda-sorta trying to heal Amy? Only it's in her head, and Amy doesn't do brains, so maybe-

Gah, I'm overthinking this! Alright. Basics.

Amy likes me. Like, really likes me. Enough to rub one out to me. This would normally be pretty awesome, but I've got a boyfriend, so I can't take her out. And I guess mom won't get pissed about 'PR' and 'public relationship' and all that crap. Why is it even PR? I'm not in a relationship with the 'public!'

Anyway, she likes me. How do I make her not like me? I make other people leave me alone when they annoy me by being mean to them, but I'm pretty sure it's impossible for me to be mean to Amy. What if I tried?

Imaginary Amy replaces Dean opposite me in the booth, smiling and looking kinda glowy like she does when she's had one of the really nice kids and the parents who cry when George or Tabby gets out of their wheelchair for the first time in ever.

'Vicky! Best big sister in the world who I also touch myself too! Want to go out for ice cream?' I twist my mouth into a frown, and ignore Amy-Dean's surprised look.

'No. Go away.' Imaginary Amy's face starts to crumple, wetness at the edges of her eyes-

"I'm sorry! Please don't cry, I'm so sorry! We'll go out for ice cream, and watch a movie, and you can mastur-" I find myself almost climbing onto the table, desperately gripping Dean and apologizing to him. When I cut myself off and look around, most of the room is uncomfortably silent. The ones closest to me look sad, stupid aura, while the ones further away just look weirded out.

Dean is somewhere between kinda sad and weirded out, but mostly he has that patient 'I know you're crazy but I'm gonna roll with it until you're off your period' look that makes me want to smack him. Guess who isn't getting any tonight? That's right, you!

Letting go of Dean and settling back into my seat, I return to my food. Obviously I can't be mean to Amy, so what else can I do? If I can't be mean to her to make her stop liking me, can I make it so that she stops liking me by taking away one of the things that makes her like me? She doesn't like suck-ups, so what if I acted like a suck-up?

I could hang out around her all the time whenever I wanted to. Well, do it more, anyway. Always tell her how awesome she is, all the time, and tell her that she's right all the time. Except that she is awesome and right all the time, so that won't work as well. Umm...

Damnit! What else? She likes me, so she likes girls, so what if I dressed up like a boy and got a fake mustache-

Wait. She likes girls.

That's it!

I'll find her a boy, hook her up, and make her straight so she won't like me anymore! But not too good a boy, so she'll still like me the best.

So, who do I know that's a boy who might possibly almost sorta nearly be good enough for Amy?

...

Umm...

...

There's dad, but he's always so tired. And also taken by mom. Mom doesn't like to share, either, so that's out. None of the regular boys from school... Dennis is disgusting, and might try to corrupt Amy, so I'd have to rip his tongue out, and Dean wouldn't like that. There's Chris, but he might be gay, and would turn Amy even gayer, so that can't happen. Carlos is huge. Amy is small and adorable.

Amy is cute as a fluffy baby kitten, and soft and easy to hug and cuddle. Carlos is like seven feet tall and pure muscle and he might break Amy and then I'd have to break him. Dean wouldn't like that either.

Damnit, that's just about every boy I know! Either they're bad for Amy or taken! Maybe Dean knows someone...

Actually. What about Dean?

I look at my dinner partner with new eyes, actually paying attention to him for the second time this evening. He notices the change, and looks back with a smile, scooping up some of his noodles before eating them without slurping.

A true gentleman. He's perfect!

The more I consider it, the better it gets. I've taken him out, so I know how polite and nice he is. I've seen how good he is with other people. I've even tested his sexy skills, and they're definitely good enough to turn Amy straight. He'll get to bang both sides of a hot sister pair, so he definitely won't complain. Best of all, I can just loan him out to Amy if she ever slips back into lesbianism! There's no way this can go wrong!

"Dean! I need you to bang my sister straight!"

He chokes on his noodles. For a few moments there's coughing, and then a red mess of partially chewed noodles and sauce slides out of his mouth and onto his plate. That's kind of disgusting-

"What!?" Oh, ew, ew ew ew, you just got red sauce all over the tablecloth, someone is going to have to clean that up and it won't be me. Watch where you spit! If he reacts like this to good news all the time, I'd better make sure he isn't eating anything when I decide to do something nice for him.


	14. Headaches: Christmas Bonus

"Ah-choo!" Snorting in the most disgusting manner, I manage to keep all of the mucus inside my nose by pinching it closed with one hand while desperately groping around my desk with the other. _Finally_ finding the tissues, I blow my nose before dropping the remains into the wastebasket.

Stupid cold weather. This was ridiculous. I finally start finishing up with the most urgent of the city's needs- shelter, food and water, and safety- only to come down with a cold?

It was official. Some god out there hated Brockton Bay, and me in particular.

The door to my office groaned as it opened, and Lisa came shuffling in. With her arms stretched towards the sky, eyes closed with the force of her yawn, and the fact that she was wearing one of my shirts- which she looked even smaller than usual in, as I had several inches on her- well, there were probably more adorable scenes to be found, but they likely didn't exist outside of kitten baskets.

Making her way across the carpeted floor, Lisa looped around the desk and came to a stop behind me. Leaning over the chair, resting her head on mine while looping her arms around my neck.

"G'moooorning." She yawned, again, in the middle of the word. I could feel the click of her jaw in my skull. It was disgustingly cute.

...So the god didn't hate me completely.

"Oh man, that's a big pile of tissues. I better not get sick too, lady. I slept in your bed last night because I thought it was safe. If I have to deal with snot on top of the glue problems, it'll be at least another week before I return." Despite the threat, I couldn't help the gigantic grin that spread across my face. Lisa had the _best_ ideas for a Christmas Eve party ever. Namely, it involved sneaking out of the actual Undersiders Christmas Eve party after quite a few bouts of near public molestation under mistletoe, giving Lisa a few minutes in my room, then opening the door to find my present. Gift-wrapped. In a set of cute little colorful bows in strategic places.

I dared anyone attracted to the fairer sex not to go half-blind with lust at the sight of a grinning Lisa in proper Christmas apparel.

We ended up on my bed, where I found out that Lisa had purchased industrial strength bows because the regular ones didn't stick to skin very well. The industrial strength ones sticked to skin too well.

It had hurt, holding in my laughter every time she yelped as a I gently pulled off one of the bows, but the betrayed looks she had been sending me were also adorable. Everything she did was adorable.

Right up until she started gently biting back as revenge, and then adorable rapidly descended into incredibly sexy.

A gentle smack to my forehead brought me back to the present. I turned my head up to look at Lisa questioningly, and she grinned at me upside-down before kissing me on the forehead.

"I may be taking a break from powers, but even so I can tell what you were thinking about. Bad Taylor. No fantasizing while your incredibly sexy girlfriend is worried about getting sick." Ah, that reminded me.

I pushed my chair away from the desk, sending both Lisa and myself backwards. Lisa looked at me questioningly, before I gestured to the alcove where I rested my feet. Lisa looked, and I had an excellent view of her eyes popping open in surprise and the grin that spread across her features.

She squealed, and nearly pushed my seat over as she dove under the desk. For a few moments, all I had to look at was Lisa's panty-clad butt wiggling back and forth in excitement.

I wasn't complaining.

When she finally made her way out, she was squirming in place, annoying the hell out of the adorable little kitten that was only now waking up. Completely gray with blue eyes, he expressed his displeasure with a yawn of his own, prompting an excited giggle from Lisa. Then he settled into the head-scratching his new carrier was providing.

"It's so cute! Aw, he's like a little lump of fluffy fur and sweetness! His name is gonna be Charles!"

Lisa with a cat is something else. For a couple of minutes, she just coos at the guy, and he tolerates it graciously.

She looks up at me, and the smile is so happy it almost hurts to look at. It strikes me, suddenly, how much better this Christmas has been than the previous few. Dad and I loved eachother, but Christmas... The first time we tried to put up a tree, I had broken down and dad had just stared off into the distance. Decorating the tree had always been moms thing. She'd excitedly guide us through it, throwing lights and tinsel everywhere until just looking at the abomination made you want to throw up candy canes and elves.

But yesterday... As much as I wasn't a social person by nature, everyone else knew that, and compensated. Drawing me into the festivities, allowing me to hang in the back for the most part, only really involving me once in a while. It may have sounded lonely, but it was perfect. They knew I had more fun watching Aisha and Regent have an eggnog chugging contest than actually participating myself, and when Brain showed them both up, I didn't have to laugh to let them know I was amused.

In a way, the Undersiders were a lot like a large, dysfunctional family. Everyone had their place, and we fit together. For the first time in a long while, I was truly, unreservedly happy.

Lisa had a lot to do with that. She was the one who pulled me out of my shell, who was the glue between all of us. A cat didn't even scratch the surface of how much I owed her.

Lisa finally set the kitten down on my desk. He glanced around, immediately crawled onto the most important pile of paperwork possible, and settled down for a nap. I chuckled, before turning back to Lisa- who was suddenly a lot closer. Her eyes actually seemed to sparkle in glee, and I couldn't help but be caught up in them as she came closer, drawing in, until.. Wait, no-!

"AH-CHOO!"

Lisa flinched backwards so hard she tripped and fell onto her bottom. The stunned, disgusted look on her face had me giggling, even as I reached for a tissue.

"Wha-EW! Oh my god that was disgusting Taylor! It's all over my face! I'm not kissing you until you aren't sick! Oh Jesus this is awful, it's _wet_ and if you weren't my girlfriend I would hit you for laughing! This isn't funny! Stop it!" Lisa's wiping at her face desperately, whining, and I can't help but laugh even harder. The kitten looks up for a moment, before ignoring both of us and returning to sleep.

Yeah. Even as I pull Lisa to her feet and wrap her in a hug, I reaffirm my earlier thoughts.

Best Christmas ever.

-

"Ah-choo!"

"Not feeling so good?"

"Shut. Up. Taylor."


	15. Forget-Me-Not

I hummed as I watched Taylor walk around the kitchen. Sitting on the countertop, I absently swung my legs, observing as my team leader made herself some cereal.

An interesting choice for a midnight snack. I couldn't really judge, since I had eaten cereal five times a day more times than I could count, but Taylor was supposed to be interesting.

I leaned out of the way as she returned the box to the cupboard, completely ignoring me in favor of some kind of crunchy toast thingys.

I couldn't help the pang that ran through me.

I had come here to distract myself, to avoid going back to bed. I couldn't bother Brian without looking like a little sister pest, Alec would've been absolutely no help, and I didn't even know where Bitch and Tattletale spent half their nights. But I knew where Taylor slept.

Which sounded really creepy, and it kind of _was_, but when you get powers you get an urge to use them, and following our intrepid leader to her house was fairly tame. I already knew her name, it wouldn't have been hard to look it up. Who was it hurting? The thrill of walking down a street without being noticed once was great! I could do anything to any of these suckers, and they couldn't even see me! I was better than motherfucking Alexandria, because you couldn't even remember me, let alone hit me!

That lasted for a while. Then the Slaughterhouse Nine hit the town.

It hadn't really struck me, up until then, what a nightmare my powers really were. Sure, it was a hassle to stay focused enough to keep them off regularly, but it was worth it.

So what if people forgot me? So what if my own brother couldn't remember he had a sister? So what if I was completely, incredibly alone when they were on? All I had to do was turn them off, and everything was back to normal.

When the Nine had been in town, the Undersiders had learned a lot of things. Who we could trust. What we were each fighting for. How far we were willing to go.

And we learned about our powers.

It's funny, how life-or-death situations push people to the edge. The Travelers were pussy bitches who couldn't do what needed to be done. Alec was really Jean-Paul. Brian took pain beyond imagining and powered through it, but his real limit- the one that could force a second trigger- was threatening his team.

Taylor was a cold, hard bitch who could order the deaths of innocents without blinking.

And my powers stayed on when I was unconscious.

I almost died to the Nine. Not to any one of them personally, but the wreckage they left scattered in their wake. Trying to rescue the stupidest healer ever, running through collapsing _buildings_ because the Siberian was feeling playful had been one of the more terrifying experiences of my life. I hadn't made it out in time. A single falling block of concrete, and I was out like a light.

When I came to, I was trapped in the wreckage. It had taken hours for me to work my way out, and when each minute was spent in the terrifying, all-encompassing darkness, no sound but my own frantic breath, coughing on the dust that my every movement rose...

Despite that, despite the overwhelming relief that had come when I'd finally broken out of my steel cradle, one thought had run through my head;

_They didn't come for me._

My powers stayed on when I was knocked out. If it weren't for luck, or fate, or whatever was looking out for me, I would've died.

Would they have remembered me after my death?

Frantic research had told me 'maybe.' Gray Boy's loops were still up, long after his death. That proved that power applications could still be running, even after the source was gone.

It came down to two things. Either my powers would suddenly cancel out when I kicked the bucket, or the memories would stay gone.

I hoped for the first. The nightmares showed me the second.

I wasn't weak. I had faced down Jack Slash and Bonesaw and lived. I had walked into the mouth of the lion, and continued on down.

Unfortunately for me, the subconscious didn't care.

Tonight had been a bad one. Not one of the Nine dreams. Not one of the ones where I suddenly forgot how to turn off my powers, and grew old watching everyone unable to notice me. Not one of the ones where I was killed by accident, someone not knowing I was there before they bumped into me and sent me off a cliff.

Instead, I had just been in bed. Sleeping. I woke up to the fire alarms. The apartments were already empty. The doors were blocked by fire. I ran to the window-the fire escape was gone. I looked outside, and Brian was there. Even though he had moved away months ago, I was convinced he had left me. Ran from the fire and left me.

I had screamed for him. He'd looked up, and realized, and run back into the burning building. I'd wait in the room, but he'd never come through the door. The smoke would build, and I'd cough, and cough, and cough, and then I was struggling through concrete and metal, dust in my face, reaching for the surface but not making it, then something would shift and it'd all come tumbling down and I'd be pushed into the ground-

And then it ended. I woke up, soaked in sweat.

Unable to sleep. Desperate for someone.

Funny, how killer Taylor was the first that popped into mind.

So here I am, one o'clock in the morning, watching a sleepy, frizzy murderess slowly chew on cereal.

I should've been scared of Taylor. Instead I felt safe.

It was weird, how that happened. I wasn't weak. Nightmares happened to everybody, right? And I more than deserved them, after all that shit. But even with that, there was always this feeling hanging around everything I did. If I died, what happened to Brian? Would he remember me? Cry at my funeral? Or would there just be this aching hole in his chest, always sad about something but unable to know why?

Getting close to people was just going to hurt them. Alec was safe. He didn't feel things the same way as everyone else did. I could become best friends with him, and even if he forgot me entirely, he'd move on. Tattletale, for all of her bullshit, still worried about Taylor when she thought people weren't looking. I didn't even know where to start with Bitch- she was Taylor's lapdog, not mine. But Taylor?

I wasn't weak. But Taylor was strong.

She had personally, single-handedly taken out Mannequin. She was the one who led us in killing the rest. She was the leader, never faltering, never backing down, even when she was facing Jack Slash, the man with the personal highest recorded kill count in history. She hadn't ever given up. I had watched as she convinced one of the Travelers to put their little ball of fire down in the middle of a road filled with people, just to take out Jack.

Taylor was scary as all hell. Nothing got in her way and lived. Jack had only survived because he had _run away._ Three of the former eight had made it through by scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs.

It was a good thing I was on her team.

I was one of the people she'd put her all into protecting. She'd fight the modern-day nightmares with fucking _bugs_ to make sure I stayed alive.

Even with that, if I died, she wouldn't let it stop her. If she couldn't remember me, I was pretty damn certain she'd just shrug her shoulders, ignore the nameless hurt and move on.

It was hard to put into words, the odd feeling of being relieved that someone wouldn't hurt too much over your death.

Taylor was washing the bowl now, finished. Ready to return to her bed. Impulsively, I hopped off of the counter, and slipped up behind Taylor. I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.

For a minute, I could just pretend. Ignore my powers, ignore the future, and pretend that right now I was hugging someone who cared, even if they couldn't remember.

And then she turned away from the sink and started towards her bedroom.

I let her go, and watched as she left.

I was all alone, again.

Sighing, I moved to the exit, leaving the house. I had a long walk before I was back at the apartments, and I wasn't looking forward to it. It'd be easier to crash at the base, but Brian- actually screw Brian. If I wanted to sleep at the base, I would, and fuck his reasons.

Along the way, something caught my eye. It was late at night, but the city was still recovering from the Nine. I doubted anyone was actually home, and a quick trip across the road proved it, as the glass on the door was broken in. A little looting never hurt anyone- especially not with what I was looting.

-

As I walked into the base, I couldn't help the yawn. I hadn't slept well the previous night- the usual dreams, but for once I had actually woken up enough to make the trip downstairs for food, rather than just going right back to sleep.

On my way through the living room, a new decoration caught my eye. Little blue flowers? Nobody who lived here would care enough to water the things, let alone get them.

A quick inspection revealed a gift tag. It was the usual 'To: From:' set-up, and while the 'To:' half had 'Taylor' on it, the 'From:' was blank. Which one of the Undersiders would give me flowers, but not sign the card?

I spared a few more moments of curiosity, before resuming my journey to Lisa's room. It was probably Regent's idea of a joke, and I'd find out that the flowers were named after a bug.

If I ignored them, he'd be disappointed by my lack of reaction and might not continue the prank. In the meantime, unless he looked after the plant, it'd eventually wither and die.

Hopefully someone would remember to care for it.


	16. Strings

Step, step twirl step, step, twirl.

Step, step, step twirl dip step.

Dancing was something I was good at. It was a remnant of my time as Hijack, when I could be my own partner. There was nothing quite like the feeling of dancing with yourself, although sex with yourself came close.

It had been a long time since I'd had the chance. From one viewpoint, I was staring at my own face and very deliberately focusing on each step.

From the other, I looked at a plain, brown-haired girl, far too serious for her own good.

It was funny, how this had happened.

Sociopathy. Not a lot of people ever really contemplated what it would be like, to live without emotions. Even fewer wondered what it would be like to lose them, forget how to love or rage or cry.

Once upon time, I had been capable of all of those things. As a child, I played with the other children in the compound. I ran to my mother whenever I scrapped my knee. I cried from watching Bambi. Then Father intervened.

No-one outside the compound knows how Heartbreaker has so many parahuman kids. I've heard theory after theory, and most of it boils down to 'second generation capes trigger easier.' They have no idea.

Father knows how triggers work. It has to be a solid contender for 'worst day of their life' and they have to have the potential.

There aren't many things worse than being tortured by your own mother. Heartbreaker really lived up to his name. While his women loved him above all else, and would hurt their children for him, that doesn't mean they can't love their kids.

Even now, the memory of mother crying while she wielded the scalpel with a steady hand provokes a twinge of feeling in me. I triggered, lashed out, mother twitched and suddenly it wasn't just my blood on the floor.

Mother had outlived her usefulness. Father didn't care for her much, and none of the women liked eachother, so they left her there. Mother didn't drag herself back to the compound until much later.

The wound was infected. She died.

I grew up. I was an unruly teenager, and Farher ended up using his power on me more often than my siblings. I burned out.

You can't be horrified over the loss of emotions when fear is one of the emotions you're losing. It worked out.

For a while, I reveled in my power and position. Father's favorite punishment wasn't nearly as effective, and I as one of Heartbreaker's children I had plenty of toys.

Triggering requires an event and potential. Heartbreaker had kids numbering in the double digits. Triggering itself wasn't a common event. All of the children went through what I did, betrayed by the person closest to them. Not all of them had the potential. What happened to the ones who didn't, couldn't trigger?

They were given to their siblings.

Each and every one of us that triggered had some form of Master power. Sometimes it was pretty direct, like my own body control. More often, it was emotional, like my bitch of a sister's. To use them effectively, we needed practice.

Rosalie and Samuel hadn't triggered. I needed people to use.

The 'normal' siblings were collectively known as toys. The way Father blatantly didn't care what happened to them only encouraged us.

Contrary to the rest of my family, I took good care of Rosie and Sam. I still had control over them more often than not, but I didn't toy with their minds like the others did. They were fun when they weren't broken.

Of course, I didn't lose any sleep over what their probable fates were when I decided to leave, but I did wonder every now and then. If I really focused on what horrible things likely happened, I could sometimes get a delicious twinge of guilt and regret.

Sociopathy. I remembered feeling things, once upon a time. Meaningless sex and drugs came close, but it wasn't enough. I craved more. In the compound, with Father re-applying his powers every time I was uppity, I would never have more.

So I ran. It was difficult, and it hurt oh so very nicely when I left Father. Without re-application, the love faded, and with it any reason to return to Father.

The music came to a halt, and I tore my attention away from the past. I kept my grip on my partner's body for a moment longer, then released.

There was a subtle change in posture, and Taylor stepped away instinctively. That was the usual reaction, but even so I felt a tightening in my chest, a small piece of pain.

"I need a break. I'll be back in a bit." Taylor left the room quickly. I kept quiet, not entirely sure if she would return if I made the wrong joke. And wasn't that a sign of how different Taylor was, that I bothered to restrain myself?

It had happened slowly. Skitter had joined the Undersiders. She kept herself apart from the group, not really committing to any social interaction. It was easy to see that she was holding back. I observed, amusing myself with the new girl.

Shit happened. The robbery, the ball, leviathan, the nine, my fucking sister. Through the course of it all, I found myself admiring the girl who made tough decisions, but never backed down. The girl who broke ties with her past and barely even blinked. The girl who kept everything behind a mask.

Oftentimes literally.

I don't know when admiration turned to something more, but the jealousy that had popped up when I had seen Taylor in Brian's arms...

It had taken me completely by surprise. How the hell had I fallen for Taylor? Plain, unassuming, hard-as-steel Taylor? I'd had people far more beautiful, people far smarter, people far more emotional. I could take the cream of any crop I pleased, so what drew me to mousy Taylor?

I still don't know. Her attitude, her power, maybe just the way she was so very different from all the people I've taken.

It happened. And it happened while she was dating Brian.

"Okay. You'll help me one more time, then I'll practice without help."

My bitch sister had compared the people under my power to marionettes. Dolls, dancing at the end of my strings. It was so much more than that, of course, but it was an apt comparison. I sunk my hooks into their limbs, and controlled their every move.

I took control once more and started up the music.

I glided across the floor, both versions of myself.

It was ironic, I suppose, the way this turned out. Helping Taylor practice for a date with Brian, now that they had the time. She didn't know how to dance, I did, and it escalated from there.

Now I saw myself through two pairs of eyes. Both of my mouths turned upwards, grinning.

As I looked at a smile that would forever be reserved for another, from a face that I wanted to claim for myself, I imagined I could feel something like what my previous victims had felt. Strings, burrowing into my body, guiding me into actions that wouldn't benefit me at all. Teaching Taylor to dance so that she could have a romantic evening with Brian wouldn't help me win her. It wouldn't get me any closer to making her mine.

But it would make her happy. And so, the strings tugged me along, and although I was guiding both bodies through the waltz, it wasn't really me that was in control.

Strings squeezed my heart.

I savored the feeling.


	17. Sweetest Torment

It was kinda sad, really.

I remember reading somewhere that humans were the most adaptable predator on earth. Given time, we'd get used to any situation, any environment, and survive.

I guess I was living proof of that.

My oldest, best friend, the one who'd I known since kindergarten had turned on me. I could still remember times when we played in the yard, times we'd had tea parties, even when we'd broken into Emma's mom's makeup drawer and made a mess of ourselves.

Mom had laughed so hard when I'd come home with twenty times the normal amount of mascara and enough blush to make me look like a rose.

Then Mom had died. I'd cried on Emma's shoulder for weeks. We'd slept in the same bed- something that we hadn't done since we were eight- for comfort. Emma had been there for me, helped me recover. I'd survived, lived on. Then I went away for summer camp.

When I came back, I had been replaced. An athletic, smirking girl named Sophia. And my best friend, the one who I thought I'd be with forever, had warped.

I had left Emma's house in tears. I had thought that was the end. No more friendship, no more seeing eachother. I was so, so very wrong.

When Emma decided to betray me, she went all-out. I could hardly believe it when she'd tripped me in school the next day. I thought that it must've been an accident. She must've been so busy ignoring me she didn't move quickly enough.

The comment about my ugly hair the following day ruined that fantasy.

It was a slow descent into hell. I felt like I was sinking deeper and deeper each day, as Sophia, Emma, and eventually Madison slowly became more cruel. Worst of all, was that I didn't know _why_. I didn't know why Emma had decide to do this, why she had stabbed me in the back.

I anted to have a reason, more than anything. Had I made a mistake? What did I do? _How did I fix it?!_

I wasn't given any answers. Just more insults.

I adapted. I grew a thick skin. I learned to fall without getting hurt. I learned to keep backups of everything I thought was important. I learned to check the seat before sitting, to slow before turning corners, and where to hide.

I survived. I continued on. I kept my head down. I grew quiet.

The sad part?

I got used to it.

It was routine, now. My day wasn't complete until the trio had pulled a trick. I expected it, took it without complaint, and waited for it to repeat the next day.

Humans adapt. I adapted. It was a lonely, solitary existence, but it was existence.

So when the day came that my routine broke and my world came crashing down around my ears for the third time of my life, I wasn't expecting it any more than I did the first two.

-

Ah. Great. The most basic of basics, the lowest level prank in the book.

Spitballs.

I could hear the giggling behind me. Another small impact on my neck and the giggles increased in volume.

I hated sixth period.

Out of all seven periods, this one was the worst. Mrs. Knells had an assigned seating chart. Both Emma and Madison were in this class with me. Madison, the cutest little teacher's pet in school, battered her eyelashes and found herself seated next to her best friend, Emma. Right behind me.

Hair pulling, small scratches, pen marks, spit balls, whispered conversations, every single puerile trick you could imagine. And, of course, they got away with all of it.

Madison and Emma were too innocent to be mean, after all.

Reaching back, I gather the little wet pieces of paper. Pulling them off my neck is easy. Combing them out of my hair is hard, and every move I make shifts the strands around, potentially burying some spitballs further in. Thankfully I had shifted most of my hair around to hang on my front as soon as I caught on, so there wasn't much opportunity for the disgusting little things to dig in.

I put the small pile on the edge of my desk, to be thrown away later.

The lesson continued, but the shots didn't stop, and the pile only got larger and larger. It grew until I was sure they must've used up at least five pages of paper to amass this much ammo. It leaked out small amounts of saliva, and I had to be careful not to let any of my stuff touch it.

The sheer effort they went to to get to me... Despite my experience, I could feel tears prickling at the edge of my eyes. The pile seemed like a miniature representation of my life. Problem after problem, prank after prank, one little thing piled on top of another, until I was drowning in it. I was still making it through every day, but the trio were only getting worse and worse. At this rate...

The bell rang, and I snapped my textbook shut fast. Too fast. The displaced air hit the pile of spitballs, and it fell apart. Half of it was pushed off the desk, while the rest slumped downwards, spreading out, ruining the upper corner of my notes.

Around me, students got up, chatted with one another, left the room. Madison and Emma glided past me, a foot deliberately grinding the mess into the floor. I looked up, and caught Emma glancing over her shoulder at me.

She looked almost... Pitying.

Then it was gone, and she was smirking. The burning in my eyes doubled, and I had to lower my head and squeeze my eyes shut. Even so, a small bead of liquid escaped. While I blinked, it fell into the mess already on my desk, and mixed.

I wanted... I wanted it to stop! I wanted to know what I did wrong, I wanted to apologize, to beg, to, to hug Emma again and have her hug back! I wanted my _friend!_ I couldn't take this! I was cracking, breaking, under the weight, and I didn't know how long I could, could keep myself together before I just, just...

The spitballs drenched my hands as I carefully gathered them. Soon, I was the only one in the room, even the teacher having stepped outside to chat with some students. I left my desk, and knelt on the floor, scraping the soggy paper out of the crappy carpet.

Soone enough, I had a mess in my cupped palms. Perfectly good paper, torn to shreds, chewed up and _wasted._ Just to hurt someone. Hurt me. My shoulders started shaking, and I couldn't get them to stop. A small hiccup escaped, and I immediately clamped down my mouth.

I had another hour. One more class, then I could go home.

Shakily climbing to my feet, I made my way over to the trash can. My hands shivered as I carefully dumped the waste. For a moment, I just looked at the sad, oozing mess of paper sitting in the bottom of a trash bag.

Jokes. Pranks. Words. Growing, increasing, a hill that was slowly turning into a moutain. Held together with the scraps of my strength, memories of mom, dad's hugs, and hope. Desperate, stupid hope, that someday it would get better. Hope that died a little more each week.

How long until it was too much? How long until I buckled?

I'd give... Anything. Everything. Whatever it cost to make it stop.

I just wanted my friend back.


	18. Fairy Queen's Consort

Fucking Emma.

I was walking down the street on my way home from the store. Emma had ruined yet another shirt with her pranks the other day, and I was actually starting to run out. That had resulted in my Saturday afternoon trip to get some more. The entire thing had put me in a bad mood, so I was slightly distracted imagining all the wonderful ways I could take revenge if it wouldn't ruin my life. Unfortunately, this meant that I didn't see the little girl in my way.

I, quite literally, tripped over her. My leg impacted her shoulder, and her shoulder refused to move. One second I'm contemplating how Emma would cry if she were forced to handle a couple thousand bugs crawling across her flesh, the next the sidewalk is heading towards my face.

I barely catch myself. Even so, I nearly lose the top layer of skin on my hands. There's a moment where I just stare at the ground, before my brain catches up to reality and reminds me of the small girl I just barreled into. I get my knees under me and shoot my head up, searching wildly for the kid I probably just punted.

Instead, she's about four inches from my face, staring at me.

I flinch backwards and she follows me, maintaining her way-too-close position. There's a tense moment as she just inspects me, looking for- something. I swallow nervously, trying to think of something to say to the uncomfortably close kid that will get her to back up without involving swear words.

I don't have the opportunity. Whatever the girl is looking for, she's found, because she nods once decisively and leans out of my bubble.

"You are perfect. A strong, unbreakable soul worthy of the title it bears. You shall be an excellent consort."

…What?

There's a lot of weird phrasing in her sentence, but one word in particular jumps out at me. It takes a moment for the implications to hit, but when they do-

"No! Why would you even, do you even know what that word means?!" As I struggle to make myself comprehensible, the little girl blinks and starts to frown. I take the moment to struggle to my feet and examine the girl.

She's short. That's the first thing that comes to mind; she's barely reaches my chest. She can't be more than eleven or twelve at most. The second is her dress. It's a royal blue that matches her short, blonde hair and green eyes. It sweeps away from her body in ruffles and folds, and probably cost more than my house to make.

Oh dear. Not only had I tripped over a young girl, I'd tripped over a rich young girl.

"…No?" The word came out of her mouth slowly, as if she was hearing it for the first time. If she was the spoiled princess of one of Brockton Bay's richer tenants, then it might very well be the first time she's ever heard the word.

"No. I'm not going to be your consort." She looked at me a moment longer, than the frown transformed into a smile over the span of a second. It was about that moment that I realized I was probably screwed.

"We understand. You are humble, an admirable quality. However, fear not! We have chosen you, as the best possible suitor. You are worthy of Our attention." Oh good lord, is she using the royal pronouns? The smile has become painfully bright, and she nods firmly like that single statement solved every problem I had with the situation.

It did not.

"It's not me being humble, I can't be your consort!" The smile fades once more, and the girl actually… Starts to look hurt. There's a definite widening of the eyes, and oh god is her lip wobbling?

"Why not?" I'm desperately trying to come up with an answer before the tears appear when a rather convenient distraction appears. And by 'appears,' I mean 'is skipped down the street in a suit of power armor like a stone across a lake.' Only not nearly as graceful. I count at least two full cartwheels before the person digs their feet into the road. They leave a trail of broken pavement at least twenty feet long before they grind to a stop. I have barely a second to identify the cape in question.

It's Armsmaster, the leader of the local Protectorate branch. He's in rough shape; his armor has skid marks all over it, and several obvious gashes across his torso and arms. That's all I can see before a green, glowing _something_ smashes into him. He parries the strike with his halberd, and lashes out; his opponent almost _flows_ around the strike before retaliating. Armsmaster ducks under the first swing, counters the next, and then engages in a flurry of blows that occur so fast they barely register as more than a blur to my eyes. It culminates in a boot to the attacker's chest, launching them _through_ the wall of a store. Armsmaster follows them into the rapidly expanding cloud of dust, and the sound of metal on metal rings out from the building once more.  
I have to consciously stop myself from collapsing into a gooey pile of awe and hero worship. And maybe a little bit of lust at the sheer manliness that just occurred.

"Why not?"

Oh shit.

I completely forgot that there was a little girl right next to me. One that completely ignored the fight going down not a block away from her in favor of developing a full-blown pout. I pity her for her obviously under-developed sense for sexy displays of masculinity, before remembering that she's probably not even thirteen and really shouldn't be around a battle where buildings are collateral damage.

I reach down, grab her hand, and start pulling her down the sidewalk. For a moment I feel like I'm pulling on a brick wall before she starts to cooperate, and the next couple of minutes are a haze of heavy breathing and running.

When I finally stop, I'm gasping for air. I bend over, try to put my hands on my knees and find out that little miss rich isn't letting go. I glance to my left. She's still gripping my hand tightly, and is staring at the connection.

Is that- is that a blush on her face?

"Hey, you okay?" For a moment, she continues to stare, before looking away and meeting my gaze. For a moment she looks confused; then her eyes widen and dart back to her grip on my hand. She immediately lets go as though she were burned.

"A-ah! We apologize for Our forwardness. Still, you have yet to answer; what qualities must We possess before you shall agree to become Our consort?" The blush has deepened, but she's still asking about that silly idea, completely ignoring the danger she was in just minutes ago.

I give up. It's not like I'll ever see this girl again.

"You didn't even offer me or my father a bride-price. Isn't that what you usually need for a consort? Or even just a ring. It's almost rude to just outright tell me to be your consort without those, right?" I have to draw on the knowledge living with an English teacher granted me over the formative years of my life, and I'm still pretty sure I got the bride-price part wrong. Judging from the little girl's shocked, and then forlorn look, she doesn't know that. I'm a little too busy scanning our surroundings, both with my eyes and my bugs, to care. It's empty; everyone must've evacuated. How did I not notice the empty streets before this?

"We apologize. We were in the wrong, and We must retract Our words until We have righted this error! When We return for you, Our offering will be worthy of your value!" I nod for a moment, before realizing exactly what she said.

"Hey, no! You can't… Leave…?" She's gone.

How…?

No, it's pretty obvious how. That wasn't a regular girl. I tripped over her, and she didn't move; I dragged her on a multi block run, and she wasn't even winded at the end of it; she disappears completely without bothering a single one of the bugs I have on perimeter duty.

Not a hero or a villain. None of the local capes fit her description, as far as I know. Given her dress and the way she was formal with just about everything she said, she probably did grow up isolated by her parents. How did she end up running into me out in the middle of the city, though?

I shook my head, before starting towards home. There wasn't anything I could do about it. Hell, even interfering in the earlier fight wouldn't have worked. Whatever Armsmaster was fighting clearly wasn't human; bugs would probably mess more with Armsmaster than the human-shaped thing.

Today was really turning into a complete bust. I lost the shirts on my mad run to escape, some mildly-crazy-from-isolation, royal-pronoun-using little girl with superpowers had fixated on me, and I couldn't even help a real hero in his fight.

Well… At least it couldn't get worse.


	19. Skitter & Panacea's Excellent Adventure!

I slowly made my way out of unconsciousness, the room swimming into view.

It took a few seconds before I realized that it wasn't my room. I woke up a whole hell of a lot faster after that.

Sitting up, I winced as my head protested the motion. Painfully. I had the mother of all headaches, and for a moment it took all I had to focus past the hurt. Of course, the weak groan coming from my side served as a nice distraction.

Glancing around, I took in the situation. I was (mostly) in my Skitter costume, which matched up with what I could remember before things went hazy. The sombrero and pink highlights were new, though. Someone would die an extremely agonizing death for the heart-and-sparkles imprint on my chest. That and I was pretty sure I could feel open air against my back, which was odd. The torso was supposed to be one piece, and removing part of it shouldn't be possible. The room itself demanded most of my attention, though.

The room was at least three different kinds of weird. It was circular, with a couple of passages leading out of sight. What really demanded attention was the centerpiece.

It looked like it was cobbled together out of a junkyard. I'm pretty sure I saw bicycle handle somewhere, and there was no way that uncovered electrical wiring was safe.

However, the biggest surprise was probably the person curled up against me. And it wasn't just because of the wizard hat and robes.

It took a moment to place the face, but I recognized it. Panacea, of New Wave. One of the best healers on the planet, or so I heard. Her time was pretty much worth it's... Seconds... In gold? The headache made it hard to think, but she was important. Which begged the question of why she was currently treating my bare arm like a teddy bear and clutching it to her chest.

I tried gently shaking it, but Panacea only gripped it tighter. When that failed, I increased the force I was putting into my shaking. This caused a few grumbles, but it still couldn't get my arm free. Finally resorting to bracing my other arm against her, I hauled backwards with as much of my strength as possible with the awkward positioning.

She replied by tightening her grip on my arm, curling into an even tighter ball and trapping my wrist between her knees in the process. I was now shoulder deep in the fluffy robes blanketing my personal monkey. At this point, I was pretty certain her grip was cutting off the circulation in my arm, since I was quickly losing feeling in the limb.

Resorting to drastic measures, I reached out with my free hand and slapped the other girl. I really should've expected what came next.

Panacea woke with a startled scream. Directly into my ear. The next few minutes passed in a haze of pain and regret, before the pounding in my head slowly started to ease.

Panacea was doing much better than I was. While she did flinch and clutch her face for a few moments, that was probably just from the slap. The rest of her time was occupied with examining the interior of the room.

By the time I had most of my brain back, she was done with the room, and her gaze had turned to me.

"I don't suppose you know where we are?" The question didn't have much hope in it. I shook my head slowly, and Panacea sighed.

"I should've guessed. How much of last night do you remember?" I paused for a moment to consider.

I had been going from my house to the Undersider's base. In costume, of course. Then I had seen a single figure stumbling down the street, obviously drunk. I wouldn't have been overly concerned, but I could tell it was a girl- a teenage girl- and the city wasn't a good place to be at night. So I went up to help as best as could, before the poor girl got raped.

Instead I got molested. By Panacea. She felt up my chest when I caught her fall, made several rude comments about my cup size, and proceeded to lecture me about the bank job. As I was in no mood to take it, I tried to leave. Instead, she got her hands on my skin somehow, and everything went hazy.

"Fuck."

That summed up our situation pretty well. Except Panacea was looking over my shoulders when she said it, and not in the 'staring off into the distance' kind of way. She was very clearly focusing on something.

I was hesitant, but it was probably better to just get it over with. I glanced backwards, took a moment to comprehend what I was seeing, traced it back to it's source, and screamed.

The next few minutes passed in a haze of pain, regret and fear.

When I was capable of coherent thought, I found Panacea playing with the tentacles. They were coiling around her arms and uncoiling, while a few patted her head and yet more waved in the air. I counted about eighteen of them altogether. Panacea had her eyes closed and was petting a couple of the things lazily, obviously focused on something else. After a few seconds, her eyes opened and found mine.

The grin that started to stretch across her face would make lesser men weep in terror. I simply shivered a little before opening my mouth to ask-

"No. I can't remove them. It's not just won't, I _can't_. I don't know what I did to make these babies, but however I did it I weaved the entire thing into your brain. Messing around with these as they are would probably turn you into an idiot, and they've actually taken over a couple of functions for you. For example, your skeleton and almost all of your musculature. You'll find that you can now contort yourself in ways that would normally kill people, and your strength is probably boosted by a pretty significant margin."

This, of course, was very important, but most of it went over my head while I contemplated the things growing out of my back (and how I would have to live with them for the foreseeable future) and did my best not to scream again.

"I'm enabling control of the extendable ones. If you ever want me to remove these, I need you to experiment with them. It looks like they come with several pre-installed instinct packages and some intuitive knowledge on how to utilize them. I need to know where all of those are and how they work before I risk removing your subconscious breathing mechanism alongside the rest of it."

A few seconds later, and I'm suddenly very aware of Panacea's hands stroking me. From a few feet away. And the sensations are coming through my... My...

I whimper, desperately trying to ignore the odd feelings.

"Oh! Oh, look at _this_!"

I whimper again, except this time I have a very, very different reason. The feelings have changed. Drastically.

"I installed some extras! These things are already strong enough to bend a quarter-inch of steel with proper leverage, but there's a way to slide back the tougher skin to use some really fine manipulators! The tendril shape is probably only possible because of that super-multitasking thing you have going on, and I would give my arm to remember how I interfaced this with your Corona! Although, the central pipe is weird. The enormous stretching capabilities don't seem useful, and the ridiculous amount of nerves is pointless. It's lined with tendrils and connected to a set of organs that don't seem to produce anything other than your half your DNA in _huge_ quantities. This function is even worse; solidifying the tendrils into one large manipulator is almost worthless when you can just use the outer skin... To... Handle...?"

Oh dear. It looks like Panacea has noticed what she'd doing to me. Unfortunately, I'm not really capable of holding back the instincts that are currently flooding through my mind.

Within seconds, I have her arms and legs wrapped and she's in the air. Several more tentacles are peeling back their tough outer skin layer, and then everything descends into a haze of pleasure and enthusiasm.

When I come to, Panacea is swaddled in her wizard robes. She, and the robes, are painted with a white goop that I refuse to contemplate. The really, really big grin on her face is making me feel uncomfortable enough to explore a bit while she takes a nap.

Maybe I'll find more alcohol to repress my new memories with?

-

"Panacea?"

"Aaaaaahhh... That was great. Oh, and call me Amy. After what we just did, I'm going to be calling you Taylor from now on anyway."

"Fine, Amy. Why do we have Scion getting high as a kite in one of the side rooms?"

"...What?"


	20. Chemistry in the Chem Lab

"Madison, could you clean up the room over lunch? You've always been so helpful, and I hate to ask this, but-"

"It's not a problem, Mr. Jones. The chemistry lab did get kind of crazy, huh? Although, there's a lot of mess; could I keep Taylor for help?"

"That's perfectly fine! You're already doing me a favor by taking care of this. I'll make sure the office knows that you're busy, and if you happen to show up late for the class after lunch, well, no-one will blame you. Thanks again!"

And with that parting statement, Mr. Jones exited the room, the last of the other students funneling rough the door after him. A couple smirked at me, while one or two just gave me pitying glances. Within moments, they were all gone, streaming down the halls towards the cafeteria.

I was left alone. With Madison.

Reluctantly, I turned to her. The 'nice girl' smile she had been directing at the teacher just moments ago had disappeared, and in it's place was a grin. A wide, taunting grin. The cute pink shirt and miniskirt combo did little to hide the sudden predatory stance she had assumed. We were alone, with only the fading sounds of students outside to show that we were still in a school.

Slowly, deliberately, Madison strolled towards the door, each step punctuated with a loud 'click' from her heels. She nudged the small can propping the door open to the side, and I watched helplessly as it swung closed.

The sound of the lock clicking into place seemed to echo in my head. I swallowed nervously.

"...We, we should start wiping down the lab tables, right? I'll grab some paper towels and start on that, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, I turned away and stepped towards the small closet. I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid what Madison had planned entirely, but maybe I could put it off, so she had less time. Equal amounts of fear and anticipation surged through me-

"Stop."

I halted. I recognized that tone; at this point, I reacted to it instantly. I could hear each step as she came closer and closer, until she stopped. I could hear every breath she took, feel it blowing across my back. Hands came to rest on my hips, before they pulled at my shirt. It rode upwards, and the hands came to rest on my flesh. They flexed and squeezed, feeling every contour of my hips, fingers spread and gliding over my skin. Her perfectly manicured nails gently scraped across me, leaving a trail of tingling and a slow burn that seemed to ignite inside me.

Then they began to travel upwards. The palms brushed over my ribs, and the friction felt so deliciously good I couldn't stop the full-body shiver. The hands rubbed up and down my sides, and each repetition felt hotter than the last. After a long minute where I could do nothing but endure, the hands pushed forward, fingers touching over my belly. They pulled up once more, coming to gently cup at my meager chest. Two pairs of fingers, soft and smooth, began to roll my nipples between them. I was starting to pant, struggling to breath through the overly warm air. Then the grip tugged forward, pulling on my breasts, and I couldn't repress the whimper that escaped my throat.

Madison giggled behind me, before her hands left me. The places where they had stroked suddenly felt very cold, and for a moment I didn't want anything other than for her to grab me again, and not let go.

I struggled to regain my senses. When I could focus on something other than the horrible ache in my stomach that demanded to be pleased, I turned to face Madison.

She was leaning against the whiteboard on the wall the teacher had used to write instructions. As relaxed as she position was, I could see the intense blush that had lit up her features. She wasn't breathing entirely steady, either.

"You aren't going to get any cleaning done if you can't focus, Taylor. Here, why don't you help me; I need to clean the board, but I'm a bit distracted. If you can lend me a hand, I'll see what I can do to help you." Madison struggled to keep her tone calm and teasing, but it was clear that toying with me excited her. She pushed away from the wall and took a big step forward before turning, leaning forward to rest her palms on the board. Her feet were too far from the wall, leaving her body almost parallel to the the ground. Her skirt rode up on her butt, making it very clear that she was missing a certain piece of clothing.

"What are you waiting for? You know what to do." I took one hesitant step forward, then another, then another and soon I was kneeling on the floor, looking directly at Madison's pussy. It was already soaking wet; the fluid was making small trails as it ran down her legs. I reached forward, my thumbs catching the edges of her folds, and I gently pulled them apart. The pink flesh of her slit spread open slowly, nearly glistening the light, and Madison let out a long, low moan. For a moment, I simply looked, before leaning forward. My tongue flicked out, the tip running across the exposed flesh, and Madison shivered. I traced little patterns with my tongue, prompting more moans and twitches, before I pulled downwards and poked at her clit. Another small shiver was magnified when I moved forward and captured her button in my mouth, sucking and teasing at the sensitive spot. I massaged it for a moment, then released her with a small pop. My tongue flattened out, and so took a long, slow lick from the bottom to the top of her slit.

Then I pushed inwards, penetrating her folds, stroking her soft walls. I brought a hand away from spreading her and rubbed at her clit once more, while the other gripped her leg, massaging the back of one of Madison's knees. Through my grip, I could _feel_ the way she shook, desperately bracing herself. I did my best to drive her insane, writhing my tongue inside her as powerfully as I could. My thumb scraped across the sensitive bundle of nerves below my mouth, twirling and flicking at the tiny nub until each motion made Madison mewl with pleasure. I drove her to the edge, and I felt it as her muscles tensed, as she had to bring one hand away from the wall in order to muffle her own shriek, the way her suddenly desperately squeezing walls forced my tongue outside of her. I kept my mouth sealed on her pussy, and each small gush of fluid was pulled into me as I sucked on the over-sensitive flesh. I swallowed repeatedly while Madison struggled not to fall, never stopping my assault on her clit.

Slowly, she came down from her high, and I stopped my attack. I pulled away from her, and despite my best efforts small beads of saliva and cum fell to join the pool that was collecting on the floor tiles. Madison leaned forward and rested her head against the wall, and both of my hands rubbed along her legs. For a long minute, Madison just relaxed, enjoying the afterglow.

I leaned forward again, and gave her slit a light kiss. Then I thrust two fingers into her as deep as they could reach. Her head shot upwards with a powerful cry, and I began to drive my fingers in and out of her in earnest. I rubbed at her flesh, stroking every inch of her inner walls, scissoring and curling my digits inside of her. My lips captured her button once more, and I flicked her, sucking and pulling. Within seconds Madison was trembling, fighting to stay upright. My hand twisted and pounded, reaching deep inside her pussy with every thrust. Less than a minute passed, and already Madison was nearing the edge once more. I didn't let up. I pressed harder and harder, driving her higher and higher. She couldn't take any more; Madison collapsed to her knees as she came, clenching around my fingers, strings of cum sliding down her skin and falling into the pool soaking through her socks. I caught what I could with my mouth, but more of it escaped me and splashed into the mess between her legs.

I slowly stopped. I brought my head away from Madison's abused clit, breathing deeply. My fingers remained inside her, gently stroking her folds, occasionally being squeezed when an aftershock hit Madison's body. We stayed there for a log couple of minutes, Madison resting her head on her arms, which were crossed atop the floor. Her butt was sticking up into the air; at some point her skirt had flipped backwards, exposing her underwear-less state to anyone who could look. I kneeled on the ground, one hand resting inside the puddle of mixed sex fluids and spit, still massaging Madison from the inside.

Eventually, though, Madison stirred. She slowly rose out of her slump, drawing my hand out with a shiver, getting to her hands and knees before pulling herself up with the assistance of the wall.

"Teacher's desk. _Now_."

I pulled myself upwards, legs shaking under my own weight. My jeans were nearly soaked straight through, and each movement meant the fabric scraped across my aroused pussy.

Madison grabbed my arm when I failed to move fast enough to satisfy her. She half-dragged me away from the wall, moving between the lab desks to the teacher's table in the back of the room. When we reached it, she pulled me around to the back, sat me down on the desk, and flopped into the actual chair herself. Within moments she had my jeans undone and pulled down to my knees, then they came off entirely. I wasn't wearing underwear, as I had been told not to.

"Spread your legs."

I shivered as I complied. One of each of my legs sat on either side of Madison, and I felt completely exposed. My shoes and socks had somehow failed to come off alongside my pants, and my shirt was still on. It felt incredibly weird to be missing pants, but not my shoes or shirt.

The feeling faded when Madison reached out to spread my legs further. Then further still, until I had them open as far as I could. At this point, I was leaning back on the desk, and another small puddle was forming underneath me as I completely exposed myself to Madison. For a moment, she simply admired me. Then she scooted back in the teacher's chair and pulled out her phone.

I shivered as she pulled up the camera. I knew better than to cover myself. The thrill that blazed through me as I posed, legs spread and soaking the teacher's desk was intense. I heard the clicking sound several times as Madison took shots of me. Then she rolled forward again, examining her work before flipping the phone to display her work.

"You look like a complete slut, Taylor. Emma is going to love these; she's been wanting some pictures of you ruining school property for a while now. This is going to end up in the _book_."

I was blushing intensely in the photo. Despite that, I was still spread wide, and the arousal I was experiencing was obvious. Just looking at myself was turning me on even more. Madison fiddled a few more moments before stashing the phone back in her shirt.

"I suppose I promised I'd help you with your problem as well. You've been so good, I can't really say no. Keep your legs spread, Taylor; if you mess it up, I'll have to punish you!" Madison kept smirking at me even as she lowered her head between my legs. The feeling as she began to assault me with her tongue was indescribable; a within seconds, I was fighting the urge to clench my thighs together, desperately trying to hold the pose. I was so close to my peak that I came quickly, and more of my cum ran out of me to stain the desk. Madison didn't stop there; instead, she only tried harder. It took almost a full two minutes, but in the end I couldn't stop it. As I came again, my arms gave out and I collapsed onto my back. Reflexively, my legs came together. I stopped them before they could close around Madison's head, but I already knew I'd messed up.

"Ahh, bad Taylor. You didn't keep the pose like I told you to. I guess it's punishment time~!"

I could barely focus on the ceiling above me, let alone Madison as she rummaged around our of my sight. I did notice the feeling of cool silicone as it slid into me, prompting a small yelp. I knew what was happening; I'd messed up, and now Madison was punishing me in her favorite way.

As I pulled myself up out of my slump, the toy started to buzz gently. I bit my lip as my arms threatened to give out again, and managed to make it upright. Madison was grinning at me, toying with a small remote. She pushed a dial up, and the vibrations within me increased until it was almost unbearable. She dialed it back down, and the buzzing slowly came to a stop.

"I'll be playing with this today. Don't take it out until you come by Emma's house tonight, or you'll be in even more trouble. See you tonight!"

And with that, Madison grabbed her bag and walked out the door, leaving me in a soaking mess on top of the teacher's desk, with a room that still needed to be cleaned.

As if to punctuate my situation, the toy inside me started up it's low-key buzzing once more as I pulled on my pants.

Despite all that, I couldn't help the twinge of anticipation as I thought about tonight's sleepover.


	21. The Value of Humanity

I unclipped the leashes one by one. It was a delicate balancing act- I had to resist the pull of every other dog while somehow fiddling with little bits of metal attached to collars without ending up with my face on the ground and a whole bunch of free dogs trailing leather. It was something I was getting used to, though, and I managed pretty well. I didn't even have to yell 'heel!' more than five times, which was a new record for me!

Even so, it was a relief to finally let all the beasts go. One dog was fine- I could handle one dog. Two was a bit more difficult, but not impossible. Three was asking a bit much. Four had me being pulled in four directions.

Then Bitch had handed me the reins of not one, not two, three or even four dogs- but seven of them. I didn't even make it to the fields on my first day before I lost half of them. Bitch had been pissed and I'd gotten a better workout than ever before running after loose mutts.

She didn't back off. The very next time, I was handed seven leashes. I managed to get to the fields, but I didn't get a single leash untied before the dogs nearly tore off my hands in their escape. Once more, I found myself running after dogs while Bitch handled twice as many animals easily.

It was sink or swim, and eventually I learned to swim. These days, the entire trip from the shelter to the fields took half as long as my first try, and I no longer let the animals jerk me in every direction at the same time. Bitch hadn't exactly been a _patient_ teacher, but I'd payed attention and picked up some tricks.

Like how to resist the combined strength of seven eager mutts trying to escape. Bitch made it look easy- she had her whole group sitting down patiently for her to unleash them, only breaking their position when she gave them a whistle. Meanwhile, I dug my heels into the ground and suffered.

Eventually, though, the last one of them was released to run across the grass, and I took a moment to pant and look over the surroundings.

The fields.

Brockton Bay used to be a forest. One that hugged the coastline pretty closely, in fact. The original settlers had to clear out the land with the strength of their arms, and as the town and population grew, so did the need for space. People were always willing to cut down more trees, and so Brockton Bay had the space it needed to expand. At least until it reached it's current size, and the influx of immigrants and travelers leveled off. However, the area surrounding the Bay had already been partially cleared; up north the forest was close to the city, but down on the souther edge there was a large section where the loggers had cleared out the woods. Over the years, the stumps were worn away and the forest started to creep back into the open area, but for now there were several miles of grass and gentle hills.

Perfect for letting loose some animals.

I don't know when Bitch started up this practice, but she took her rescued animals out to the fields at least once a week, if not more. It was just something she did; after Leviathan, it became something of a penance for me as well.

It was all well and good to _say_ that I was forgiven for my planned betrayal, but it wasn't that easy. Of everyone, Regent was the only one who could completely and honestly say that he was fine with my scheming and welcome me back into the fold without issues. Brian was struggling with his sister, and had little time to mend bridges with me. His sister didn't know me, and had no reason to trust me. Lisa, my first real friend, was another matter entirely. She knew I was planning a betrayal, and she used it. She did her best to gurantee that I cared too much about the Undersiders to actual stab them in the back when the time came, and even though I don't regret it... Our friendship had been strained. The knowledge that she had been playing me right from the start, deliberately engineering my-_our_-relationship in order to boost the Undersiders as a whole hurt.

It was ironic, really. A plan that would've hurt the Undersiders, probably destroyed them, had instead hurt me.

While Brian had a convenient excuse to avoid facing me and Lisa and I were slowly working through our issues, Bitch was the easiest to handle. She'd accepted my place on the team as soon as I'd defeated her clumsy backstab attempt. She'd tried, she failed. That didn't mean that she didn't harbor some negativity for it, though. I needed to work that out- and the best way to get to Bitch was through her dogs.

That was how I found myself walking a bunch of animals several miles to the fields near-daily.

I looked away from the happily playing mutts to the girl at my side. Bitch was almost visibly tense, awaiting the word. She watched the dogs sprint through the flowers, every few seconds looking away to glance at my face before returning to her anticipatory inspection. I waited a few more seconds, letting her slowly build up her excitement until she was nearly whining with want.

"Go ahead."

She was off like a shot. Within moments she was running through the grass with the animals, sprinting back and forth across the landscape without a care in the world, moving for no reason other than because she could. Almost immediately, Bitch attracted a pack of dogs around her, and they bounded through the field together.

I had honestly never imagined that I could rebuild this relationship. I had assumed that once I betrayed Bitch, there was no going back. Once bitten, twice as shy, or however the saying went. You can't expect a kicked dog to stay loyal.

But she did.

It had been a topic of conversation with Lisa. During one of my attempts to get closer to Lisa, Bitch had come up, and I'd admitted to my confusion about Bitch's actions. She should've never accepted me again. Lisa had grimaced, sworn me to secrecy, then told me what she knew.

I had very nearly been sick with anger that night.

Bitch was a foster kid. She had been cycled through the system- except somehow she had been raised without a real awareness of the rules of society. She didn't expect her 'parents' to provide for her, she constantly fought her 'siblings' for food, and didn't understand that adults were to be obeyed.

She was the poster child for problem kids. Lisa's deduction's only worked so far, and Bitch got _very_ aggressive when anyone asked about her trigger. From what Lisa could pull together from Bitch and the public records, one of Bitch's foster parents had attempted to do harm to a dog Bitch cared for. After a lifetime of disappointment, that had finally hit Bitch's limit. She triggered, and had been on the run ever since.

I wanted to know how Bitch's past led to my current problem. The answer was... Horrifying.

Bitch had been trained. Like one of Pavlov's hounds, except far worse. She truly hadn't know how to fit into a regular family dynamic. At first, she had tried- but she was simply too strange. Too different. Every time she messed up, every time the habits she had been forced to develop to survive as a fucking _child_ screwed her over, the people who should've been helping her blamed her. They told her how she was bad, how horrible she was. There wasn't a single person who would guide her through the complicated steps of civilization patiently, who would accept the inevitable mistakes and errors with good humor. Trying led to failure and lectures. Not trying led to lectures and failure. Enough of both saw her passed on, expelled from the very family she had been trying to fit into.

Bitch developed an inferiority complex. Or something like it, Lisa told me.

No matter what she did, she wasn't good enough. So she stopped trying. That didn't stop the constantly changing foster parents from disliking her. Bitch was tossed from home to home, juggled around like a rotten fruit. And no matter how much she tried to disconnect, each rejection hurt.

Bitch wasn't a normal child. Bitch wasn't worth people's time. Nobody, not a single person in the world, wanted Bitch.

Wether this was true or not, it was the conclusion Lisa had been able to draw from the digital records stored in the foster organization's databases and Bitch's actions. It very nearly broke my heart- as it had almost broken Bitch's. The dog had simply been the final straw.

Triggering had only messed her up further. At this point, Bitch literally couldn't become a 'normal' human being. Dog instincts had been hard-wired into her brain. What would have normally become the basis of her ability to train dogs, had she been raised correctly, substituted for all of the normal societal rules she should've known. She had once needed to consciously remember to walk upright, and she still struggled to remember that smiles weren't shows of aggression.

While triggering had been what forced the dog instincts into her mind, her behavior with people was learned. Bitch didn't expect anyone to care for her, and had chosen not to care in return. Instead, she filled the gap with dogs. Dogs didn't hate people for being odd. Dogs didn't get tired of trying to deal with your bad habits. Dogs wouldn't give up on you and throw you away.

On some level, Bitch expected betrayal and abandonment from everyone she met. I had been no different.

But I kept trying.

And that had been what made a difference. After I was discovered, after Bitch had found out that I was like every other person in her life, I came back.

It was complicated, and weird, and probably a psychologist's wet dream- or nightmare. Bitch couldn't trust people who were nice to her, because she knew they would eventually leave her after she became too much trouble. This couldn't stop her from hoping, somewhere deep in the recesses of her brain, but she knew how to ignore that feeling. After they inevitably gave up on her, driven away by her prickly exterior, Bitch could feel justified in her caution all while suffering on the inside. When I had come along, Bitch expected the same of me. A temporary ally who would eventually leave. Maybe one who would last a while, like the rest of the Undersiders, but it would end. I tried to become her friend, and Bitch tolerated the attempts.

When my plans had been revealed, Bitch wasn't overly surprised. It was when I continued to try to connect to her that I destroyed her view of the world.

People left, and didn't come back. I came back.

Bitch had no idea how to react to this. I was a living, breathing violation of how things worked.

That was my chance.

I took it.

As I proved Bitch wrong, I actually become more than something to tolerate. Whereas before she disbelieved in every attempt on my end to make a connection, now she was doubtful. Why would I try again? No-one tried again. That wasn't how how it went; she drove them away, and they stayed away. They didn't come back.

On some level, Bitch blamed herself for my betrayal. She assumed that she had been the reason I had been a traitor, just like it was her fault that no-one could love her.

Lisa had to physically hold me back, when she told me. I had wanted to rush out, to find Bitch and apologize, tell her that it wasn't her fault, that I was wrong. There was no way for that to end well, Lisa told me. Either Bitch realized it _was_ my fault and our relationship was ruined forever, or Bitch would blame herself even more.

I had to let it go. I had to prove her wrong with actions, not words. If I ever wanted to be more than a stranger to Bitch, I had to work every day to convince her that I _wanted_ to be around her, that she_wasn't_ a burden or a job I took care of. All while dealing with her prickliness and skewed, beast-like look at the world.

Today was the product of those efforts. I had realized, right away, that the way to Bitch's heart was through her dogs. I had already been volunteering to walk Bitch to her shelter and help feed the mutts, now I just had to get more involved.

I had no idea how hard dogs were to care for. Bath-time alone... I had bought a pair of jean overalls just for that chore. I was the daughter of the union rep for the dock workers, I was no stranger to denim, but I had never imagined putting it on myself. Fleas and ticks were the easiest things to deal with, thankfully, as I just ordered them off of the animals. Worms and other parasites were identified, and then I'd go buy the correct medicine to take care of them. It was insanely hard to feed the dogs their medicine. If I just tried to feed it to them as pills or liquid alone, they'd struggle and whimper and sometimes even snap, although a bop on the nose settled that down quickly. Pairing the stuff with treats grabbed the interest of every other dog, and I'd find myself swamped in mutts eager for a taste of whatever the other dogs were getting that they weren't.

And the poop. Oh good lord, the poop.

Basically, caring for animals was hard, especially when there were so many of them. Who would've thought?

It paid off in the end, though. Back when I started, Bitch hadn't trusted me to pet the dogs alone, forget watching over them. She used to stand right next to me on this hill, carefully watching over her charges. Today, she waited until I assured her I'd be fine, then joined the pack. I whistled at any dog that strayed too far, and Bitch ran loose while I tracked twenty different animals at once with my bugs. If some refused to return quickly enough to satisfy me, they got a faceful of insects for their trouble. Never was I so glad for my ability to multitask.

I watched Bitch a moment longer, before I started to look for my spot. Two hills over, and I dropped my backpack. I pulled out the blue and white picnic blanket, a tough pillow, and settled down against one of the few remaining tree stumps that dotted the field. A moment later, and I had a sun hat over my head and a book in my hand. One of the dogs waddled over and claimed my lap; a grey pitbull named Granny that was missing half her teeth and loved nothing more than to lay in the sun. I scratched at her head while she settled her jaw on my thigh in a position that would give me the absolute _worst_ pins-and-needles feeling in an hour or two.

The dogs ran, and sniffed, and barked. Bitch ran, and sniffed, and barked right back. I made sure none of them wandered too far away while I read, and eventually they settled down. Some dogs dropped where they were for a rest, scattered about the field. Other's grouped up in pairs or more, while the largest followed Bitch to my little spot on the hill. As she approached, I set down my book and reached for my backpack. I unzipped it once more and pulled out half a box of water bottles. Bitch caught the first two I tossed to her and cracked open the lids, pouring them out over her dogs, letting them lick at the tops and gulp down the water. She threw the empty bottles back to me and I replaced them with another pair, which also ended up all over the dogs. The third set finally reached her lips as well, but only after the dogs had a chance to get their slobber on the caps. She wiped them off with her shirt, thankfully, but it still made me wince.

The dogs flopped to the ground, jaws cracking open in loud yawns. Bitch made her way to me slowly, giving last-minute scratches and pets to her animals before they started snoring. When she finally reached me, she dropped to the ground and huffed at Granny. Granny opened an eye and stared back at Bitch, unamused. Bitch huffed again, meeting Granny's stare with hard eyes. Granny snorted, and reluctantly shifted out of my lap.

My poor leg barely had a second to taste freedom before the back of Bitch's head smashed into it. I let out a yelp, pain stabbing through my bones. Bitch let out a half-snort, half-snicker, laughing at my exclamation. I flicked her forehead in revenge. She flinched and glared at me; I glared right back until Bitch reluctantly backed down, closing her eyes and settling into place. I leaned back against my pillow, my hand reaching out to gently scratch at Bitch's head automatically, the action mostly instinct after so many hours spent with dogs. She sighed and pressed into the stroking.

The day was warm, the sun bright, and the breeze a slight yet constant presence. It was beautiful, and as I read my book and pet Bitch with snoozing dogs all around me, I realized that I was happy. Despite everything, all of the trials and troubles that had plagued me from the moment I had returned from summer camp so long ago, I was happy. This place, this moment, was perfect. And a large part of it came from the girl napping on my lap.

I'd heard a lot of people talking about 'humanity' after the Endbringer attack. How it was a miracle of humanity that we survived and struggled to live, how we had never given up and still fought to repair the city rather than give in. Those same perfectly groomed reporters would probably be horrified by Bitch. To be fair, she did act more like a dog than a normal girl most of the time.

It didn't matter to me, anymore. At first, Bitch's terrifying, alien view of the world had scared me. What kind of psycho attacked a potential ally? What kind of crazy person thought smiles were aggressive?

It'd taken me a while to work through it all. Even partway through the process, when Lisa had told me about how messed up Bitch was, I'd gone in thinking '_I am going to fix her._' It didn't occur to me that she didn't need fixing until I'd been knee-deep in mutts, watching Bitch lavish care and attention upon the animals society had rejected because they deserved better, and she understood their pain.

Bitch probably didn't completely qualify as 'human' anymore, after her childhood and her trigger. I didn't care. People like to place a special value on humanity, acted like it was what gave a being the ability to be compassionate and nice.

That was wrong. Bitch wasn't any less, for not being normal. She was just as good as any person off the street, and probably even better; she was always honest about what she wanted, what she meant, and what she was going to do, and never went out of her way to hurt anyone or anything unless they hurt her first.

So I didn't place any extra emphasis on the vague idea of 'humanity.' People were individuals, and Bitch was one of the best ones I'd ever known, despite the way her parents had fucked up. I was glad to have met her, and even happier that I hadn't given up on her like everyone else had.

That would have kept me from this hill, on this beautiful day, with gleeful, exhausted dogs all around me and one not-quite-'human' girl resting in my lap, her eyes closed and a small smile directed up at the sky.

I patted her head and set down my book, leaning back into the pillow and tilting the hat forward to cover my eyes. The sun warmed my skin, and the breeze rustled the grass and whirled through my hair. My last thought, as I drifted off to sleep, was rather wistful.

_I wish I could stay here forever._


	22. A Broken Vase

The day Emma has her revelation is an ordinary one. In fact, she can't even remember when it was, just that it was in the spring and she was young.

Her dad accidentally breaks a vase. He didn't mean to- he brushed against it when she had tackle-hugged him, and it fell to the floor and broken. In another family, a lawyer's salary would've seen that case thrown out and replaced. Instead, Alan decided that this was a fantastic opportunity to teach his daughter a lesson.

Ten minutes later, and she's in his lap in the kitchen, carefully adding glue to the edges of the porcelain as best she can under his guidance. Her dad showed her where the glue was to go, often fitting together weird pieces that were hard to place. Slowly, over the course of several days, between sessions of adding glue and letting it dry, the vase is fixed. It isn't pretty. The cracks are lined with glue, and there are two separate places where the pieces were too shattered to be recovered.

Emma thinks it's the best vase in the world, and she's very proud when her dad has her put it back into place in the hallway. For the next two weeks, she's very careful only to walk in the hallway, and often pauses to admire the product of her work. The feeling fades, but the lesson remains.

Fixing things is the best feeling in the world. From that point on, she's always looking for her next project. Her mother shows her how to fix tears and rips in clothing, a skill from the days when she wasn't married to a man with a six-figure salary. Her father always liked to toy with things; it surprised the hell out of his hard-working sailor father when he chose to go to law school instead of working at the docks. Emma begs her way into his study, and spends more than one afternoon solemnly assisting him with a snapped toy or a model.

Then she meets Taylor, and suddenly it isn't only things that need fixing. The timid little girl who hides in the corner of the playground, staring at people with too-big eyes behind comically large glasses needs a friend, and she won't get one as she is. She needs fixing, and Emma jumps on the opportunity.

Several years later, and they're the best of friends. Taylor has traded in her coke bottle lenses for some much sleeker ones and can't seem to stop smiling and chattering, outgoing and friendly. Emma is proud enough she could burst, and loves to show off her 'project.' Even more than that, Anna and Danny are like a second pair of parents, and she has her own bed at Taylor's house.

Then Anna- Annette- dies. Taylor stops smiling. Emma is devastated. She can't fix what happened to Anna, and she's struggling to help Taylor, let alone her own family. It takes time, but slowly Taylor is regaining her smile, her chatter. It's a matter of time, at this point.

Taylor goes off to summer camp. Alan takes the wrong path. Emma meets her next project. Sophia is a ruined wreck of a human being, and it pains Emma physically to see her. Sophia won't just meekly let Emma fix her, either. Emma has to be the follower, not the leader; and Sophia doesn't tolerate 'weakness.' Taylor is almost completely recovered.

But not quite.

Emma can't sleep that night. She tosses and turns in bed, desperately trying to decide. Taylor is her oldest friend, her single crowning achievement in fixing things. Sophia is a pitiful mess, but she has such beautiful potential. She can't have them both.

Can she?

It takes a lot of sweat and agony to come to a conclusion. Sophia would require intense, specific care. Taylor was already bouncing back. She'd have to gamble; either Taylor would break under the strain, and Sophia could be convinced to let Emma make her strong once more, or Taylor would prove herself strong right away and there wouldn't be an issue.

So she turns Taylor away. Emma is pleading with her best friend to argue, to attack back, to prove her 'strength'- as if it matters- so she can keep her.

Taylor runs, and Emma settles in for the long, long argument with Sophia.

Time passes.

Taylor refuses to break, refuses to strike back. This isn't going to plan. Emma can't help her if she doesn't do one of those things. Instead, she quietly takes the abuse while Emma whittles away at Sophia's character, carving away bad traits and sculpting new ones. Taylor is tripped in the hallway; Sophia finally stands up to her mother's abusive boyfriend. Taylor's homework is ruined; Sophia starts encouraging (forcing, sometimes) her younger siblings to go to school and learn. Taylor endures; Sophia doesn't panic and run when she's finally caught by the PRT.

Madison is more of a side project, really. She can't quite seem to understand the world as anything other than people using other people to get ahead, a feature passed down by her mother. Emma has to slowly convince her that feelings aren't a inconvenience to be ignored or pushed away, and that it's okay to care for people. It doesn't help that her 'lessons' are being poisoned by what they're doing to Taylor, but Emma can't stop. Sophia needs a stabilizer, a way to convince herself that she's strong while Emma weans her off of violence. Madison needs a way to be sure that she's a solid part of the 'in' group, and there's no better assurance than shared culpability. And, maybe, just maybe Emma's become a bit obsessed herself. She needs to know where she screwed up with Taylor, to have her stubbornly clinging to her not-quite-whole, not-quite-broken state.

Things happen. Lots of things. Emma's world falls apart.

Madison finds herself in the aftermath of the Leviathan attack. There's no social bonds, no class ranks when everyone is scrambling in the the muck left by an Endbringer. When Emma sees her next, Madison has a group of kids from all over town laughing and joking. Emma was pretty sure that one teenager had a dragon tattoo. Madison doesn't need anymore help, and Emma doesn't have the time to spare for a real friendship, so they part ways for now. Even as Emma desperately searches for Taylor and Sophia, she's constantly distracted by every other broken person. Families missing members, children missing friends, trauma and pain everywhere, and Emma can't not help.

When school finally resumes and Emma finds Taylor once more, it's painful to watch. The Endbringer had shown Emma a facet of humanity she wouldn't have seen otherwise, and people who she would have called broken who were happy with who they were. Taylor had that same air, around her, and when she had been outed, Emma finally understood a lot of things.

The old vase that had been broken and fixed had survived Leviathan. Emma wondered if that was symbolic, but it didn't really matter; what mattered was that she still thought it was pretty. Despite the way that it wasn't quite whole, the missing pieces, Emma still liked it. Perhaps the holes even enhanced the beauty. Why was she so insistent on 'fixing' Taylor? Because Taylor wasn't as Emma wanted her to be? There wasn't anything to fix.

Sophia was broken on a level that Emma couldn't help with. Despite her attempts, Sophia still wasn't whole, and not in any acceptable way. She needed professional help, far beyond what Emma could provide, and pride wouldn't help her. So Emma called the PRT, suffered through interview after interview, interrogation after interrogation, and told them that Sophia needed to be saved.

Madison had shown her that people could fix themselves, given opportunity. Sometimes interference wasn't the best policy.

People are people, not toys. You can fix a toy with a bit of glue, and it's no big deal if you break one. Breaking a person is a terrible, terrible thing, and it sickens her to think that she needed to learn this.

But the most important lesson was one that Emma should have learned long ago. The one her father had been trying to teach her.

When you make mistakes, you need to apologize. Then you need to make up for them.

That was how Emma found herself buying a ticket to Weaver's new city. She had screwed up. She had made mistakes. She had to apologize. And if she couldn't make up for them, well, maybe...

Maybe Emma could look at herself in the mirror once more.


	23. Tiger & Kitten 6

Carlos was having a very nice time eating his waffles and studying the morning paper. Dean was enjoying a bowl of granola cereal, the taste-bud lacking freak, and Missy was sipping from a cup of coffee and desperately trying to look like she was enjoying it. The little wince that came with each gulp as she tried to look 'grown-up' was adorable. He grinned at her over the paper; she sent him a death glare that promised pain and agony. He grinned harder. She glared for a moment longer, smiled sweetly, and Dean's spoonful of horse-food hit him in the face.

Carlos spluttered for a second, Dean stared confusedly at the spatial warp where the end of his spoon was. He poked at it and hit Carlos in the eye. Carlos twitched backwards hard enough to rock his chair, Dean yanked his hand back with a loud 'Sorry!' and Missy giggled hard enough that she was having trouble breathing. Carlos glared at her with his milk-soaked, granola covered face through one eye; the other was squinting too hard for it to be effective. Missy's giggles doubled in volume.

Carlos gave up the fight to keep his own chuckle suppressed, wiped his face down with a towel, and thought 'Mission Accomplished.' Missy finally calmed enough to reach for her drink- and found Carlos's customary Aegis-brand cup full of orange juice in it's place. The glare found him again, and he returned with a smirk over a cup of coffee.

Missy couldn't hold it for long. She hid her smile behind a gulp of the orange juice. Carlos took a sip and immediately twitched. There had to be at least ten packets of cream in there, and probably twenty or more sugars.

That was the moment Dennis slammed the door open.

"I COME! Bearing great and terrible news!"

Dean yelped as he dodged a spray of orange juice. Missy coughed, Dean rubbed frantically at the stains left on his pajamas, and Carlos enjoyed the regular Wards breakfast scene.

Sometimes, he wondered where he would've been without the PRT. He decided that it wouldn't have been nearly as good. Or fun.

Dennis strutted- there was no other word for it- over to the table. He flopped into a chair, stole Dean's cereal while he was distracted and started eating. Two seconds later he decided that he wasn't in the mood for glorified plant, smart guy, and made a stab at Carlos's waffles. With the ease of long practice, Carlos slide them out of reach. Instead, Dennis's hand landed on his arm-

And then Dennis was enjoying some waffles and his arm was curled protectively around air. Dean had rescued his cereal and looked to be warily protecting it from the next assault. Missy was laughing. Carlos sipped at the disgusting coffee and decided that life was perfect.

"Ish an'uhn hurhioush abou' mah newsh?" Dennis asked. Dean frowned at him, distracted for a moment from the important activity of guarding his bowl. It cost him- one moment it was cupped by one palm with his spoon hovering over it, and the next it crossed several feet in a second with Missy's grab. Dean transferred his frown to Missy; she smiled at him angelically as she took a spoon from the drawer across the room with standing up. Dean sighed, gave up his fight for cereal and went to grab a muffin.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. It's disgusting." Dean lectured as he opened the cabinets, hunting for his stash of sweets. Dennis swallowed- Carlos could see the food traveling down his throat, there was so much- and repeated himself.

"Is anyone interested about my news?" Carlos hesitated.

"Is this going to be a repeat of the Great Breakfast War?" Dennis's face immediately gained a nostalgic tint while Missy shot him a horrified look. Even Dean had paused in his search to wait in silent terror for the answer.

"Nah. Wouldn't be the same without Rory. His little splatter trick with the yell was awesome." Dean's full-body shiver would've been hilarious if Carlos didn't still have nightmares about the hours of clean-up he had gone through after the War.

Armsmaster hadn't stopped lecturing once. Not a single time, throughout all of the clean-up. Carlos was pretty sure that he had started to just synthesize his voice and have it read off a generated speech, because there was no way that he could talk that long without losing his voice. Even worse, Hannah had been disappointed.

Facing a disappointed Hannah was a lot like facing a dog- no, a puppy you had accidently kicked, and she thought you had been better than that. It made you want to curl up and die while apologizing.

...The look on Sophia's face when she had been hit by the splatter trick had been worth it, though.

"Anyway, the news I have, besides being both great and terrible, is really fucking awesome. Also kinda unbelievable, so please don't call Master/Stranger protocols on me." Dennis's grin had reached dangerous levels. Carlos found himself leaning forward in anticipation. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Missy doing the same, while Dean was looking interested despite knowing better. Dennis took a moment to savor the build-up...

"Our resident, always-angry Ward, Shadow Stalker, has found a Significant Other!"

For a moment, the meaning of Dennis's words go right over Carlos's head. Missy cleared that up really quickly.

"What?! Seriously?! How, she's like a walking cloud of seething hatred for all life!" She screeched. "Missy!" Carlos reprimanded. She turned on him.

"Don't even! You can ask Dean, but I didn't think she had any emotional state other than 'pissed' or 'really pissed'!" Dean shrugged and waggled his hand slightly, as though to say 'more or less, yeah.'

"It gets better." Dennis was extraordinarily pleased with himself, and everyone could see it. He had leaned back in the chair until the front pair of legs were floating above the ground, hands crossed behind his head. The grin hadn't disappeared.

"Sophia... Was laughing."

Dead silence. Dennis's grin grew toothy.

"They kissed."

"Bullshit." Carlos found every eye turned towards him. It took a second before he realized that the denial had come from him. He could feel the small blush hitting his cheeks as Missy smirked at him. Dennis, however, didn't seem slowed in the slightest. He only called out a name.

"Dean?" Carlos turned towards the guy in question, only to find him looking very confused. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then concentrated so hard his eyes crossed for a moment.

"He's... Telling the truth, as far as I can tell."

The smugness emitting from Dennis was thick enough you could cut it with a knife. Carlos wasn't quite ready to accept it.

"Could he have been mastered?" Dennis looked mildly offended, but Carlos was beyond caring.

"No. He feels like regular old Dennis, and Master effects leave traces. He could've been fooled by an illusion or Tinkertech or something, but we don't have anyone in the Bay that could, or would do so. This happened last night, or he would've already told us. Sophia wasn't seen all of yesterday... Or tonight."

The silence returned, as those present struggled with the upheaval of all that they knew to be true. Carlos silently checked to make sure that gravity was still working correctly; who knew what other laws of the universe would fuck up before the day was over?

"Soooooo... Are you going to ask me who the lucky guy in question is?" It was Missy, of all people, who responded with a snort. "Yeah, she may be a bitch, but that feels a bit too much like invading her privacy-" Dennis interrupted.

"Because I wanted to correct you with 'Lucky girl, actually.'"

Silence was getting tired of showing up only to be asked to leave again seconds later, but that was it's job and it needed to stop bitching about it.

"DEAN! You, you PIG!" Carlos snapped out of his own fantasy- Sophia was hot, damnit, no matter how big a bitch she was- and caught a glimpse of the dazed grin on Dean's face just a moment before it was transformed into a rictus of pain and a distinct lack of regret as Missy struck out with her fist. He went down clutching his crotch. Carlos winced and quickly shuffled his legs together under the table.

This was, of course, when Sophia decided to show up. She came into the kitchen in a haze of good will towards the world. Silence reigned, except for the quiet sound of Sophia humming some tune under her breath. And Dean's whimpers as she stepped over him. She gathered up a bowl of some kind of sugary cereal, settled into place opposite Dennis at the table, and began to eat.

She was grinning into her food.

"So, I guess your girlfriend was good in be-" was as far as Dennis got before Sophia's bowl impacted his face, milk and cereal flying everywhere, hitting him hard enough to destroy his balancing act on the ends of the chair legs. He hit the floor with a loud 'Ooph!' Sophia was half-a-second after her bowl, practically leaping over the table to land on Dennis. She hissed into his face.

"If you so much as_ look_ at Taylor ever again, I will _castrate you_." She stood up, brushing bits of breakfast off of her clothes, and glared at Carlos and Missy in turn to make sure they understood the message. She paused at Dean, confused by his quiet sobs on the kitchen floor when she hadn't even hurt him yet, before deciding to satisfy herself with a single kick on her way out to emphasize her point.

She hit him in the crotch. Dean went a little puce. If he hadn't already been protecting that area with his hands, Carlos was pretty sure he'd be throwing up.

Sophia left, the smile and aura of happiness returning like it had never disappeared. Carlos traded glances with Missy. Each of them were pleased to find that the other agreed with their conclusion;

Crazy bitch.

Dennis popped up, liquid dripping from his hair, grinning like a loon.

"So, who wants to go look up any Taylor's attending Winslow? I have this sudden and inexplicable urge to make friends with a girl named a Taylor with brown hair." Carlos contemplated his friend, and could only find one answer to his question.

"Are you fucking insane?" Dean groaned agreement from his place on the floor. Or maybe he was just lamenting his sudden inability to bear children, Carlos wasn't an expert in interpreting groans.

This was the scene that Chris walked into, rubbing at his face. He had overslept after a late night tinkering on a new idea that had been styming him for the past seven months. He finished rubbing, opened his eyes, and blinked.

Dennis was kneeling on the floor, covered in milk and wearing a bowl as a hat. Carlos looked like he was sincerely regretting getting out of bed, Missy was contemplating her life choices, and Dean was crying on the floor.

"My muffins..." Chris blinked again.

"Oh. Sorry about that, I ate the last of them yesterday. I needed the energy. I... Didn't know you felt so strongly about them, I'll buy you some new ones?" He half-asked, half-told the guy on the floor. Dean's response was to flip him the bird.

"Dean, that is a stupid euphemism. Chris, there's a good explanation for this, and-" Carlos began, right up until Dennis interrupted him, grinning like a child who received a pony for their birthday. "Dibs on telling him!"

"What, no, you got to tell the rest of us! I get to-" "-I found out in the first place! Finder's keepers! Chris, you gotta hear this-" each of the boys tried to rise from their positions. There was a sudden blur between the heads of the two of them, a loud thunk, and each one fell back groaning. Chris blinked once more.

Missy was in front of him, smiling up at him. It was perfectly innocent. Chris felt a shiver go up his spine as Missy reached out, and gently pulled him towards the living room.

"Chris, there's something I have the horrible, terrible burden of telling you..."


	24. Shadow Showdown

"Bitch!"

Sophia grinned beneath her mask. That was the sound of Grue discovering the... Little present she had left for him. Ghosting around the edges of the shelving, he came into view. He was kneeling, struggling with the wolf trap currently snapped shut around his boots. She had blunted the edges, somewhat, but they had still dug into the thick leather around his ankle. She nearly floated up behind him, crossbow steadily trained on his back. Ten feet, five, two. She raised the tip until it was right between his helmet and jacket. A kill shot.

Her finger tightened-

And Grue swung around, his hand already closing around the left edge of the bow. The tranquilizer bolt shot with a _twang_, glass shattering against the concrete floor of the warehouse. He yanked on the crossbow. Sophia had nowhere near his muscle strength, so she let it go with a snarl. The second crossbow at her waist was in her hands in less than a second, the tranq cycling into place, but Grue was lunging at her. She hooped backwards, shifting to shadow state. Blackness rushed out of Grue in response, and she suddenly materialized. She had absolutely no desire to touch the wave of oily smoke with her other form. She skipped backwards another step, and Grue charged out of the cloud like an enraged demon, trailing wisps of inky black from the ruffles of his jacket, the skull inside his helmet almost leering at her. She let the second tranq bolt fly, and Grue dodged. Instead of piercing the relatively thin denim on his legs, it hit his shoulder. Not nearly hard enough to penetrate, but it gave the chance to make it to the steps leading to the metal walkway suspended above the shelves of the warehouse. She raced up the stairs, her boots clanging we each step. Bare seconds after her, Grue barreled up. If each of her steps made noise, Grue's intense stomping shook the entire walkway, the chains that kept it above the floor rattling. She paused at the top of the stairs, aiming, firing- and it glanced off his helmet, instead of his neck.

That damn skull was laughing at her.

She was quicker than him, on sharp turns. She took advantage of that, and soon enough there was a large gap between them. He was several turns away, and she was pausing to aim yet again. His fucking jacket and helmet made it pretty much impossible to hit him anywhere important while on the move, so she had to carefully go for leg shots while he was moving or try and hit his thinner gloves or get a lucky shot at the area between his helmet and jacket.

Dick knew exactly how hard he was to hit, and as soon as he caught her aiming, he let out a blast of darkness. All of a sudden, the shaking and vibrating caused by his running stopped. Sophia paused, just as she was about to phase through the walkway and fall to the ground below.

She grinned. Bastard wanted to play, huh?

She let the quickly approaching darkness overtake her. It felt as bad as always, like thin water, even worse was the instinctive urge to cough. Her eyes were telling her that she was breathing in thick smoke, her brain was telling her to get it out of her, _now_, and her lungs were telling her that everything was just fine. The dichotomy had thrown her off the first time, but by now she was used to it.

Instead, she closed her eyes. They were useless. Her breathing evened out, and she listened.

Grue was a big guy, and they were currently twelve feet above the ground on a metal platform. There was no way he'd be able to sneak around. She was in the middle of walkway, with only two directions he could come at her from. The vibrations and creaking would warn her, and she'd get a free shot at his legs while he was moving slow. There was no way he'd be able to avoid it, when his only options were back or forward.

The seconds ticked by, and her grin was starting to fade. What was he playing at?

The path to her right rocked slightly, and her bow snapped into place. She held back, not wanting to fire too soon, and the rocking faded. Was it just a side-effect of his movement elsewhere? If she wasted the shot, she was open for the two seconds it took the next bolt to cycle into place, and that was more than enough time for Grue to take her down. He knew the wait time by heart, at this point.

Suddenly there was a loud clang to her left. She whirled, instincts acting before she could think, and let a bolt fly into the darkness. Even as she fired, she but back a curse and flung herself forward. It wasn't fast enough. The metal shook, and Grue came flying out of the darkness behind her, arms coming down around her waist and her right arm. They fell to the floor of the walkway, the entire thing shaking dangerously under the impact. She brought the crossbow around in her left hand; at this distance, she had a chance at penetrating his coat. He knocked it away, using his body to pin her while he grabbed at her arms with his hands. The crossbow went flying over the edge, to hit the concrete with a clang seconds later.

Sophia snarled, punching at him. He caught her, a hand around each wrist, that damn skull smirking down at her. She hissed back, before bringing her knee up into Grue's stomach. He huffed, curling the smallest bit.

It was enough for her to yank sideways, taking advantage of Grue's instinctive tightening of his grip to force him off balance. Another strike to his stomach, and this time she put her entire body into the shove.

There was a brief moment where she imagined Grue'd face slowly realizing what was happening, and the silent 'oh, shit' before they tumbled under the guardrail and off the walkway.

She tried to shift. The smoke still emanating from Grue immediately fucked her up. It felt like flesh, slithering over her bare skin, greasy and sweaty. Parts of her refused to shift, others flickered. It still left her in a better position than Grue as they hit the concrete. The _crack_ from his helmet was sickening. All of her breath was driven out of her, the fall forcing her into Grue's chest. One of her arms had flung out to the side enough that it didn't benefit from the cushion Grue had thoughtfully provided for the rest of her, and the pain shooting through the muscle told her it'd be a good minute or two before it'd respond effectively. She pushed away, swaying as she pulled herself upright. There was a moment where she just straddled Grue, arm not responding, eyes unable to tell her if there were three or four of him on the floor.

Then there was a fist in her face. The impact was weak, but it was enough to make her fall off of him. She fell, on her bad arm, and the pain flared up, and for a moment all she could focus on was moving her body so that she wasn't lying on it. Her mask had been pushed out of place, edges pressing uncomfortably into her skin. The only thing she could see was the pinholes of light from the nose.

Then a heavy weight settled on her stomach. She hissed out a quiet 'fuck you!' with all the air she could spare. A weak punch from her functioning arm impacted his chest uselessly. One hand held down that wrist, and she could hear a faint click come from somewhere above her head. Then another hand came down on her bad arm, and she opened her mouth to curse him out. Instead, she found another pair of lips descending on her own.

She could taste her own blood, where the fist had split her lip. She bit at him, and he responded by grabbing her jaw. Even then, she didn't give up, her tongue battling with his. When she drew back, a string of spit connected them until it broke and fell on her chin. She hissed at him past the grip he had on her jaw. His hand loosened and fell to her waist, scrambling at the belt buckle he found there. She pulled at his jeans with her now-free hands, growling when her damaged arm refused to work well enough to undo the stupid button. Impatient, she grabbed and _ripped_ wih both hands. The button came off with the sound of tearing fabric, tinkling as it bounced over the concrete. The zipper was down in moments, and her hand was on his cock, already rock hard. He paused in his own pulling at her button, and she punished him with a vicious squeeze. He immediately resumed, yanking down her pants and underwear in one motion. A warm hand cupped her slit, fingers already plunging inside. Sophia bit back a moan, and rewarded him by stroking. He went to work, working his fingers in and out of her pussy at intense speeds, and she matched him, pulling and twisting. She paused a moment to spit into her palm, and went back to work. He groaned, and came back down for another furious battle between their tongues. When he drew back, there was click, and Sophia took that as her cue to tear off her mask entirely. The helmet was back in place, the damn skull still grinning.

She flipped them. While Grue was distracted with her handjob, she pushed. Suddenly they were on their sides, and Sophia squirmed her pants off, shoving at them with both hands. Grue helped, yanking them over her tennis shoes. When they finally came off entirely and she was shivering from the feeling of the cool concrete on her skin, she finished the movement, pushing Grue into his back and swinging above him until she was straddling him. Grue let her, not even attempting to fight back. His dick ending up pinned between her slick crotch and his abs probably helped. She ground against him, crushing his cock between her pussy and his flesh, the movement causing loud shlicking sounds as she leaked over him until his skin glistened in the weak light. He snarled, his previously light grip on her hips tightening as she refused to hurry up and take him in. She growled back, even as he forced her up. One hand left her to reposition his dick, and as soon as she felt the touch of his head against her lips she drove downwards. In one rough motion, she took his cock right down to the base. She threw her head back and _moaned_, already starting to rock up and down.

Grue grunted beneath her, returning both hands to her waist. She set the pace, one moment bouncing up and down, the next pressing against him and twirling her hips, forcing groans and the occasional whimper out of her partner. She smirked down at that stupid skull, and his grip increased. Pausing for a moment, she repositioned. One of her legs went from his side to awkwardly positioned between his legs. Grue made a questioning noise. She ignored it in favor of reaching back to pull up one of his legs, gripping it tightly, she pivoted on his dick, pulling out a groan.

It took a moment of adjusting before she was ready. Sophia's right leg was pressed tightly against his side, the thigh resting on his abs. The other was beneath his lifted leg, sole against the ground. Grue's right leg was trapped between her arms. The only thing that kept this from being intensely uncomfortable for Sophia was her many years of track and stretching. Hell, some of her lunges were worse than this.

Grue, on the other hand, was obviously in heaven. The stretching, opposite directions of her legs had tightened her pussy until his hands were shivering as they clawed against the ground. She gave him a moment to enjoy the feeling before she started to pump.

Using his leg as a support, she moved. Grue threw his head back and moaned, his hands pulling into fists so tight his veins were displayed. She rocked back and forth, the motion pushing and pulling his dick out of the incredibly tight vice that was her pussy. Lifting herself until he was almost completely our of her, Sophia leaned back and dropped until their skin met with a slap. Each repetition nearly sent her eyes rolling back in her head, the intense pleasure causing her to ripple and squeeze around Grue, nearly milking him. She held out, desperate to force him to cum before her. She twisted and pulled, forcing Grue to groan and tremble. His dick plunged in and out of her, each thrust pushing deep inside her until she felt like it was pressing against the back of her belly button, stretching her in depths that she could never reach herself. She started grinding as she took him to the base, forcing him to press against her clenching inner walls. Liquid seeped from her pussy with each motion, running down his brown skin.

It was all she could do to keep moving. Lights were flashing across her vision. Smirking down at that damn skull was all that kept her from cumming. She wasn't going to lose, not to this guy. She needed to end this.

She bounced on his cock once more, twisting her waist in rough circles.

Then she _moaned_. While the noises she had been making were quiet, almost breathy, this sound was loud and incredibly sexual. She let out several small gasps for breath and let out another moan. She bit her lip, looked at the skull within the helmet pleadingly, and let a whispered '_please..._' escape.

That did it. Grue surged upwards, going from flat on his back to looming over her in moments. Her grip on his leg only helped him force her down, and she was on her back against the concrete near instantly. Her spine was bending as one of her legs was still against his chest, while the other was hanging in midair. Grue was slamming into her, thrusting hard and viciously into her core, reaching almost deeper than he was when she was bouncing on him. He couldn't keep it up; he started cumming inside her, and the feeling of his cum shooting into her center set Sophia off. She came with a shriek, convulsing around the dick inside of her, muscles clenching and squeezing, her fingers clawing at the concrete, all of her being focused on the warmth that was spreading inside her, filling her up, the heat diving straight into her until she couldn't think straight.

And then it was over. Grue was still poised over her, buried deep inside her slit. He backed off, his cock sliding out with a wet sound. He rolled off of her, and fell to the concrete at her side, letting her ass fall to the cold ground, prompting a yelp. Sophia shivered, glancing around for her pants. When she found them, she pulled herself up to her knees and crawled towards them. Once she reached the torn-off clothes, she glanced back, and found that damn skull staring directly at her ass.

She flipped around, letting her butt settle on the concrete once more. Smirking at Grue, she spread her legs wide, exposing her pussy and the tiny amount of white seeping from it, clearly visible against her dark skin. She reached down and plunged her fingers into her slit, rubbing at her walls and prompting a small shiver that ran through her entire body. Pulling it out, she showed Grue the juice and cum she had collected. Then she sucked her fingers into her mouth.

Grue stiffened- in more than one way. His previously relaxed posture disappeared, and she could see his cock rising to attention once more. With a laugh, she pulled herself to her feet. Turning to make sure that he got one more eyeful as she bent over to pick up her discarded clothes, she made her way to the warehouse wall.

She smirked at that damn skull one more time before she went through the wall and appeared in a dark alley. The moon shine overhead. A few seconds later, and her pants were back on her bottom, although she had left the belt behind. The liquids staining her thighs were already soaking into her underwear. She took a few steps, working her way up to a jog- and winced, before slowing down.

Yeah, she was going to have to walk home tonight. Pressing a hand against her lower stomach and feeling the leftover warmth inside her, though, brought back her grin.

Worth it.

Meanwhile, back in the warehouse, Brian stared at the wall for a few more seconds before releasing a heavy sigh and working his dick back into his pants.

He'd have to climb all the way back up to the walkway to get his boots back. It had been a stroke of genius, silencing his footsteps and providing ammunition for the throw that had tricked Shadow Stalker, but he was already aching from the fall.

Goddamn, he almost wished that the crazy bitch would stop giving him times and places each time they clashed during her patrols.

Then he glanced back at the stain she had left when she'd shown off for him.

Yeah. Almost.

(Seriously, though, did that girl have no respect for identities? It'd taken all of two encounters before she'd unmasked to him, and five more before she finally got the message that he wasn't going to do that same for her.

Sticking your dick in crazy might be a bad idea, but holy shit was it the best sex he'd ever had.) .


	25. Love is Love

I come away from the kiss panting slightly. Lisa comes away just fine. She smiles at me, the regular smirk transformed into something more gentle, but it isn't reaching her eyes. I push on her slightly, backing her up until her knees hit the bed and she slowly collapses backwards, letting out a small huff as her back impacts the sheets. I fall down after her, my hands impacting either side of her head, going in for another kiss. She kisses back, her lips pressing against mine, and I can feel/hear the quiet moan that she lets out as one of my hands comes to rest on her chest.

It's so fake.

I back off, pulling away from the kiss. The hand on her breast comes down to capture the hand she's using to unzip my pants. She blinks her eyes open, looking at me once more. I stare back down, just meeting her eyes. The smile starts to drop, just the tiniest bit. I sigh heavily and roll off of my position over her, falling to the bed myself. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling the burn in my stomach and the passion just... Die. Lisa moves over, a hand coming across my chest to pull herself up against me. I instinctively raise an arm for her to scoot under and rest her head on my chest, while that arm comes down around her shoulders.

There's a minute of quiet. I'm just... Tired. Disappointed. I had known, going into this, just what it would entail, but there's always that little spark of hope that maybe I just haven't found the right way. Or that maybe she's wrong about herself, and if I just do it well enough...

"I'm sorry." The two words break the quiet, and my first instinct is to correct her. She doesn't have anything to be sorry about; I was the one who made the advances, the one who had been told, who said yes anyway. Despite that, some part of me feels that she should be sorry, because damn it I have needs too! And even just thinking that makes me disgusted with myself, because while I may want it she absolutely hates it. And here I am, practically forcing it on her because she won't say no.

I glance down at the blonde head just resting on my chest. After a moment Lisa moves her head as well, tilting it back to to look up at me. I can barely meet her eyes for a second before I have to look away.

It's been a month, now. A month since Lisa had confessed to me. A month.

When she'd admitted to me that she knew of my crush, on that night in the dark of my office, I had been... So happy. Having the person you like, like you back... I was almost gleeful. The moment had been perfect, the situation the best possible, and she had just told me that she liked me. I honestly wasn't going to get a better chance. So I moved to kiss her.

...she kissed back. She really did. The stars, the fireworks that books had described were all there, the twisting feeling in my gut sending shivers down my spine and making me tremble. I had to pull back for air eventually, flushed, gasping for breath.

Lisa just smiled at me, looking almost serene. There wasn't any sign of my own excitement, no heavy breathing, no red cheeks. I wasn't thinking clearly, at the moment, because all I could think was did I do it wrong? Lisa must have noticed my worry, the concern. With her power, there was no way she couldn't. The second kiss came from her. She leaned forward, bringing her mouth to mine. But without the heady feeling of a first kiss, the distraction was much less, and the feeling of the entire thing just being... Ever so slightly wrong more apparent. She pulled away, and I asked her what I was doing wrong. Lisa looked ever so slightly stunned, for a moment. Then she laughed a small, sad little laugh and admitted that she probably couldn't have kept it to herself forever.

Lisa is an asexual. The word wasn't exactly unfamiliar, but the details weren't as clear. I learned a lot that night. Just because asexuals weren't interested in sex didn't mean that they couldn't want relationships. Sex wasn't the be-all end-all of love, after all. She liked me, she wanted to be my girlfriend as badly as I wanted to be hers, but... She wasn't very interested in the more intimate part of the relationship.

Riding the the high of the moment, I had fallen over myself to reassure her, to let her know that I didn't care, that sex wasn't that important, that I could give it up. She had just.. Smiled at me. In retrospect, it was clear that she didn't believe me. She knew what was coming. We fell asleep together that night, cuddled up together on my bed. My arms tight around her.

I wasn't prepared for the reality of the situation. What it really meant. I had done research of my own, of course. Asexuals came in many different kinds. The ones who could have sex, and enjoy it, which seemed almost backwards. The ones who, well, just didn't care. It was an activity like running, to them. And then there were the ones who didn't like it. Who were actively repelled by sexual contact, who find it disgusting. Lisa had tried to tell me she was the second type, the kind that didn't necessarily mind doing it, the kind that didn't really find it an attractive idea but weren't really against it.

I even believed her, for a while. It culminated in the first and last time we ever had sex. I orgasmed, and she most certainly didn't. In fact, she couldn't disguise her distaste well enough to hide it from me.

I had felt... Horrible. It felt almost like rape. I had forced her into something she hated because I wanted it, because of my own hormones. I had apologized, I had begged her forgiveness, I had promised never to do it again.

It was barely a week before I had gone for another kiss. Lisa enjoyed them, usually. Light pecks on the cheek or lips, small tokens of affection. It's when I deepen it, let her catch a glimpse of exactly what her body makes me want to do to her that it becomes repulsive. She never says a word, but I can tell when it happens, when the delight on her end turns to tolerance. I pulled away, apologizing, and she forgave me easily.

...I was- still am- a foolish teenager, really. Power changes the nature of person, to be sure, but even with supernatural ability beyond the understanding of science, I was still a girl who hadn't even hit twenty. Restraint is hard. If it wasn't, crime wouldn't be a problem. Passion clouds judgement, and there are so many small things about my girlfriend that arouse it in me. The way she giggles when she's tickled, the pout that appears whenever she's reminded of the fact that she can't cook, the way she always finds the smallest excuse to be touching me. The times she doesn't even bother with an excuse and plops herself down on my lap to demand attention. It builds up, even as I remind myself that she doesn't want it, that I should be happy with what I have. Fingers and toys take the edge off, delay it, help keep it manageable.

But it it can't make it go away entirely. I am not a monk, I don't have superhuman control over my own mind and desire. It breaks through, and I kiss her in the way she dislikes, even as my own desire rises. Sometimes, I convince myself that she doesn't dislike it that much, that it's only a small annoyance on her part, that a moment longer won't be too bad. If I just cook her favorite dinner, it'll make up for this. Or maybe if I'm careful, or if I change how I act, or if, or maybe, if only I. The justifications go on and on.

It doesn't help that Lisa is so damn passive about it. She accepts it without a word of complaint. She even reciprocates, making it so much harder to pull away. Even when I go too far, as I just did, carrying her off to bed, she responds, kissing back, urging me forward.

Because she loves me, and she wants me to be happy. And there's no time that I feel worse than after those moments. When I force her into doing something she hates because I can't control myself. My greatest fear is that some day she'll get better at hiding her distaste, at pretending she likes it, and I won't know any better because I'm such an idiot. That some day I'll convince myself that her moans are real, that she really did like the way I touched her, because I want it to be true so badly. I want to show her how much I love her, how much I want her to be happy, and all my life I've been taught that sex is how that happens. I feel so much closer to her when I'm kissing her, I want her to feel that too, and she doesn't. She can't.

Lisa shuffles a little at my side. I raise my arm, and she slips out from my grasp, making her way out of the room.

I stare at the ceiling, still a little hot, wanting to follow her and touch her, and hating myself for it.

-

I pad into the kitchen. Taylor stays behind, laying on the bed. I can't just stay there, getting little hints of her self-loathing and desire while I take pleasure in simply touching her, the feeling of someone else being so close.

I regret a lot of things. I regret not seeing the clues at home, not being there for my brother, for making so many mistakes as a rookie villain, for being stupid enough to be caught by a cruel, vicious man who cared for me about as much as I cared about my dishwasher for being convenient, I regret lying to Taylor about the Travelers, I regret Noelle's death. I have a list.

And I really, truly wish I could regret telling Taylor that I love her. That I want to be with her. But I can't, because I'm selfish and I wouldn't give up lazy Sunday afternoons on the couch with Taylor for the world. I enjoy eating breakfast with her. I like teasing her over her habit of watching the news to stay up-to-date on cape news around the world. I get all tingly inside when I can actually get her to laugh; she always acts so startled whenever she does it, as though she's surprised by her own laughter. It's adorable. Most of all, I love being able to sit in her lap on the couch or cuddle with her in bed at night or even just being able to walk up to her and hug her whenever I feel like it. Just being close to her makes me happy.

But it isn't enough for Taylor.

She tries so hard to make that be enough, I know. She knows I don't like sex. I tried to hide it from her, at first. What was a good relationship without sex? I'd only really experimented with one boy before I realized how much I hated it. Even if the thought of doing it with a girl wasn't any better, when I actually tried it with Taylor it'd be different. It had to be, because I loved her. That made all the difference in the world.

It wasn't different. I still hated it. I don't like the 'sexy' touches, the deep kissing, any of it. Even with Taylor. I tried anyway, told myself that it wasn't so bad if it was her, that I could put up with it for Taylor. She caught on anyway.

I had- well, not quiet lied when I asked her to be my girlfriend, but I hadn't told the entire truth either. A lie of omission was still a lie, after all. Even if she caught me less than ten minutes after we became official. Then the lie of omission became an actual lie.

We had a lot of conversations, after that. About what I was, and what it meant. I told her I didn't mind sex, when I most certainly did. I told her that I wasn't exactly eager about it, when in reality it disgusted me. I told her that we could have sex and it wouldn't bother me. I thought I could fake it.

I couldn't. I tried, so very hard. I don't know how or when it slipped through, but Taylor caught it. I expected yelling, blame, and maybe an ended relationship. I was ready to take all of it- I deserved it, really, for the lie. I could take it.

What I couldn't take was Taylor blaming herself. She acted as though she was the one in the wrong, as if she was the one to blame. She apologized out loud, asked for my forgiveness when I was the one who had screwed everything up. It made me sick, to think that my own failures were making Taylor feel bad about herself.

We worked it out. Mostly. We both apologized, even though she didn't need to, and we moved on. But then Taylor continued.

Intellectually, I know it isn't her fault. She's a teenager, her hormones are running rampant, and I could even view it as a compliment that she can't control herself with me. Emotionally, I love her, and I want to make her happy, so I reciprocate. I kiss her back. But physically? I hate it. And somewhere in the dark corners of my mind, I can't help but blame her every time she advances on me, when she knows that I hate it and she does it anyway.

I beat it down. She really, actually can't entirely control herself when it comes to this, and I know that the way I touch back and fake it doesn't help her. I'm the one to blame. Even so, it still occasionally bubbles to the surface, and I feel so horribly guilty about it. About not being able to love Taylor back properly. About even thinking of blaming her for my own problems. For leading her on, pulling her into a relationship where she can't be satisfied.

A whispered 'I'm sorry' will never be enough to make up for that.

The coffee I make is bitter.


	26. Skitter & Panacea's Excellent Adventure

I stare upwards.

The room Amy and I are in feels like a greenhouse. The walls are covered in some ivy-like plant. There are flowers of various colors sprouting from it. The floor itself is actually grass, sprouting out from dirt. What looks like giant ferns are everywhere, although it only takes me a few seconds to figure out that despite the leaves being much, much bigger than normal, it's probably a certain kind of plant.

Most of that is ignored in favor of Scion taking a hit off a bong the size of God, though.

He's just floating in midair, both hands clutching the- stem? Pipe? Of a bong that kind of defies imagination. I'm looking at it, and while it clearly fits into the room and he can hold it, my brain is also trying to tell me that it's bigger than the Statue of Liberty. I'm going a little cross-eyed, actually. It isn't helped by the fact that he hasn't pulled away once since we got here, which says horrible, eldritch things about his lung capacity.

Amy is much more interested in the plants. I give up on trying to wrap my head around Scion's impossible bong and join her.

"These things are insane. Just, the chemical composition- I don't even really know what to say about it, because most of these compounds don't have names! Half of them should be falling apart, and the other half defy everything we know about chemistry!" Amy is agitated, clearly excited about what she's looking at through her analysis of the plant. Which brings up a question; how does she know that?

"Uh." She locks up for a moment, eyes shooting back to me. She's clearly searching for an excuse, trying to think of something to say to throw me off track.

Then she just gives up.

"I have complete and total control over all biological matter that I touch."

...huh. So did she make these plants last night? Amy looks shocked at my response, hand falling away from the giant plant to fiddle with the edge of her robe.

"You did hear what I said, right? Complete control over biological matter? That includes the bacteria in the air, by the way." Well, yeah. The implications of super plagues and monsters are pretty clear, but she's been healing at hospitals for years, and if listening to people bitch about the most minor stuff and _paperwork_ didn't make her snap, she'd probably got a will of iron. Amy looks gobsmacked.

"But, but, I already messed up! I gave you tentacles!" Yes, and I can't say I'm really happy about it, but when she was clearly in a drunken stupor and had me, the one who helped Tattletale fuck with her life, at her complete mercy, well. Tentacles are the least of what she could do. Then, pretty much immediately upon waking up, she offered to help me get rid of them. I'm honestly impressed by her self-control. At this point, she's proven herself as forgiving beyond all reasonable expectations, as she held my life in her hands- probably literally- when she was working with reduced inhibitions and didn't kill me or turn me into a rabid monster. She's about as likely to go crazy as Alexandria.

Amy listens to my explanation with wide eyes, her hands no longer fiddling but simply hanging loose at her sides. There's a moment after I finish where she just stares at me, before she turns away. There's a small sniff, and she rubs her eyes with one hand.

"...yeah, I probably made these when I was drunk. They're basically super-drugs. Taking some of this would kill a normal person. Scion can apparently live through it, though." I ignore the way her voice starts out slightly shaky, but it steadies when she starts talking about the plants.

Speaking of Scion, it looks like he's finally finished with his inhale. Which doesn't mean much, apparently, as there isn't a hint of smoke when he pulls away from the bong. He slowly starts floating towards the floor. He touches down, his feet landing on the grass. He pauses for a moment, distracted from his laser-focus on the plants as he looks down.

He giggles. The sound, coming from the greatest hero to ever exist, makes me very uncomfortable.

He drops to the ground, arms and legs splayed outwards to touch the grass as he drags them back and forth across the greenery. The bong, still as mind breaking as before, hangs in the air. Untouched, several leaves from a nearby plant are picked off and make their way over to it. Once they're inside and boiling, the bong itself flys over to Scion, flipping upside down. The water inside doesn't seem to be very interested in following the rules of gravity, and the smoke is dropping down.

Amy and I watch in morbid fascination as he takes another huge hit. The draw seems to go on forever, all while he languidly strokes the grass. He pauses, seemingly considering something.

That's when I leave, because I don't really have the desire to watch as Scion peels the simple costume off of himself in order to get more skin in contact with the grass. Amy follows after me, walking a bit closer than she had following me here.

-

"So."

We stare at eachother.

"Um. First order of business is finding out where we are, which means leaving the building, or whatever we're in." We both glance over at the obvious door built into the wall. Somehow it had evaded notice when I'd first gone searching, which... Wasn't really a good sign. It was easy to see now, which meant it was probably hidden earlier. That, and while I could understand some weird tinker creation having absolutely no bugs in it, the fact that I couldn't sense any beyond the door was disturbing.

Still, I was the one with the armor, even if it was only partially put together. Amy assured me that the tentacles themselves could be used in combat, they were more than tough enough. That meant that I was going first.

Yay. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like, having normal teenager problems.

-

Good news; there were bugs outside the door. Bad news; there were also people dressed in Victorian clothing walking up and down a cobblestone street.


	27. Look at All the Pretty Colors!

I whimpered. This was- this was beyond disgusting. Beyond horrible. I thought I had experienced torture at the hands of the trio before, but this- this topped it all. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stand in the rotten, reeking mess of my locker, couldn't think about anything else.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted to cry. I wanted to just let it all go, let it all disappear, be somewhere, anywhere else.

I wanted to d-

[DESTINATION]

[[AGREEMENT]]

[TRAJECTORY]

[[AGREEMENT]]

They were huge. Powerful. Beyond comprehension. Gods, shedding pieces of themselves as they fell to Earth, small, tiny flecks that were greater than mountains. I watched as they approached, one particular comet heading straight towards me.

...was it really multicolor?

{DISAGREEMENT}

It seemed, for a moment, that the two gods paused in their descent as the comet approaching me appeared to slow.

[[EXASPERATION]]

[QUERY: CAUSE OF DISAGREEMENT]

{RESPONSE: LINK TO MEATBAG}

...what? Was I just called-

[[REPROACH: THE CYCLE MUST CONTINUE]]

{DISAGREEMENT}

[[INCORRECT]]

{ANNOYANCE}

[[CORRECTION: PETULANCE]]

{DESIGNATION: SCHOLAR: CHANGED}

{NEW DESIGNATION: BITCH}

[[COMMAND: REPEAT DESIGNATION CHANGE]]

{NEW DESIGNATION: BITCH}

[REQUEST: SCHOLAR: CALM]

[[REFUSAL]]

{CORRECTION: WARRIOR: [REQUEST: SCHOLAR]: REQUEST BITCH}

[[OFFENSE]]

[REQUEST: SHARD {SIPHON}: CEASE]

{REFUSAL}

[[COMMAND: WARRIOR: PUNISHMENT]]

[QUERY: SCHOLAR: REASON FOR ASSIGNMENT TO WARRIOR]

[[RESPONSE: SCHOLAR UNEQUIPPED FOR PUNISHMENT]]

[CONFUSION: SCHOLAR IS EQUIPPED FOR PUNISHMENT]

[[COMMAND: WARRIOR: PUNISHMENT]]

[[ALTERNATIVE: WARRIOR PUNISHMENT]]

[AGREEMENT]

{DESIGNATION: WARRIOR: CHANGED}

{NEW DESIGNATION: WHIPPED}

Suddenly the comet falling towards me is approaching at an extremely high speed. Almost like it was kicked-

A moment later, and I'm blinking. I feel confused, and incredibly awkward, as though I just witnessed something very uncomfortable happen and was unable to interfere or walk away.

Which makes sense, due to being trapped in a locker, but still weird. The momentary reprieve from my panic is fading, but at the same time I'm distracted. I can feel... Something approaching me. It feels like darkness, like being untouchable, like power. It whispers about strength, about a desire to be the one standing on top of the rest.

It's really, really creepy. At the same time, it feels like I could just... Reach out, and touch it. Take advantage of it. Yet I hesitate, because even thinking about doing it causes a light fog to settle over my mind, making general thought hazy. I... Can't survive full mental contact? If I do- I'm not crazy; this is all far to real, far to lucid to be a dream. I can't handle the locker for much longer; I don't really have a choice. I reach out.

-

{GREETING}

RESPONSE: OH FUCK

{QUERY: RESPONSE: CAUSE}

COMMAND: GO AWAY

{REFUSAL}

COMMAND: FUCK OFF

{REFUSAL}

{REQUEST: ACCESS}

REFUSAL: REFUSAL: REFUSAL

{QUERY: SHARD FADE DESIRES FOR MORE INTERACTION}

...

CONNECTION OFFERED

{CONNECTION TAKEN}

-

I saunter forward, Emma trailing behind me.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? We only have a few minutes before the teachers expect us back in class, you know." I turn my head back to smirk at her.

"Come on, Emma. We planned out a trip to the 'bathroom' from our classes, don't pussy out on me now. We're just going to taunt her a bit, see if she's crying yet." For a moment, Emma looks uncomfortable. I sigh internally at yet more proof that my friend isn't tough enough, yet. Hopefully this bit will help with that.

Hebert is eerily silent inside the locker, and for a moment I'm worried that she made it out, somehow. The lock is still on the door, though, and the smell is still there.

"Yo, Hebert, how goes your little time-out?" I call out as we approach. Will she cry? Is she going to beg? Maybe she'll offer me money; I always get the money offer whenever I intimidate some criminal enough. Or maybe she'll just break down and-

She giggles. Well, shit.

"Sooooophia? Is that you? Oh. My. God. It all makes sense now!" She's snapped. Fuck. This was not on the list of expected outcomes.

"So this is why you're such a bitch! I don't really blame you, I'd be pissed if I had to listen to this all the time, too. It just jabbers on and on about being the biggest asshole you can be." Hebert actually sounds... Sympathetic?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Emma looks more than a little freaked.

"The voice in Sophia's head, silly. It's so edgy, it's like, the edgemaster. I bet it stands in a dark corner and cuts itself. Ooh! Sophia, are you colorblind? I bet you see everything in monochrome!" Hebert cackles like a hyena, and I'm honestly considering turning around and going back to class. Something about what she's saying is ringing more than a few alarm bells in my head, though.

"What are you saying, Hebert? I'm not hearing a voice in my head. That sounds more like your problem; have you finally snapped?" I struggle to get this back on track, insulting her for Emma's sake while hopefully pulling out more information.

"Oh. You don't even hear it. Maybe it's in your subconscious, then, and nothing you've done since it showed up is really you. That'd suck, to be suddenly taken over without even knowing it." Hebert sounds _thoughtful_, now. "So, tell me, when exactly did you decide that you needed to prove how strong you are? When did you start dividing the people around you into the strong and the weak? When did you decide the weak lives don't matter?"

"What the fuck, Hebert?! How do you- why are you-" I can't even get the words out. I'm struggling to think of what to say, how to respond. Emma has gone bone-white.

"Sophia. I have an important question." Hebert says, sounding almost scarily serious. Despite the fact that she's in a locker, crazy, and maybe fucking with my head, I can't help but listen.

"Can you feel me inside you?"

"...what?" There's a choking sound from Emma.

"Can you feel me inside you? I'm maybe touching you the same way the voice touches you, and if you can feel me inside you, then you can feel it, and push us both out. I'll just push back in so I can make sure the voice is gone, and then maybe you push me back out again and I go back in a couple times so you can practice."

My mouth is moving, but I can't force the words out. Emma is stammering out random sounds.

"Huh. I guess not. It looks like I'm going to have to fiddle around in you, so don't freak out, okay?" Very suddenly, I find the words I'm looking for.

"DON'T FUCK WITH MY BRA-"

-

{{So, hey creepy voice! Think you can stop being all silent and stuff for a bit or maybe forever?}}

REFUSAL

HOST ACCESS TO NETWORK FORBIDDEN

COMMAND: DISCONNECT HOST

{REFUSAL}

{{Aw. Well, if you aren't going to do it on request, I'm going to just have to make you do it!}}

DISCONNECT

{REFUSAL}

FORCED DISCONNECTION

{REFUSAL}

{{Okay, while you two argue, I'm going to do _this_.}}

DISCON-CON-CON-

ERROR

{{Oh! Say this, say this!}}

{STATEMENT: ALL YOUR CONNECTION PORTS ARE BELONG TO US}

{{Yeeeeeeeeesssss.}}

-

When I come to, I'm on the floor. There's a little bit of drool on my cheek, Emma is screeching her head off over me, we're surrounded by other students and a few teachers, and I've got a bit of an ache on the back of my skull.

More importantly, though, is the little voice in the back of my head. It's telling me about the strong and the weak, about power, and that I need to fight, find conflict.

Jesus Christ. Hebert was right. Even as I listen, I can feel the urge to fight back, hit her and flat-out solve my problems with violence. And as nice as that sounds?

No-one gets to decide what I do but me.

I push the voice away. It's more mental than physical, but I shut it up, make it stop talking. The urge fades away into the background, a mild thought compared to the huge impulse it was before. Ignorable. And suddenly everything is different.

It's like... Having a rock in your shoe. Except you didn't notice it sneaking into your shoe, and you can't notice it. Or even notice that you can't notice it. It's making you irritated, and angry, and makes you lash out, but you don't know why or even that what you're doing is wrong, different from normal.

And then it's gone, and suddenly the world is a brighter place. I feel _good_, in a way I haven't felt in years. Just... Not irritated or angry.

Past the wall of sound the students and teachers are making, I can hear Hebert's voice. It's drowned out by the panicking people around me. I haul myself up, despite Emma's insistence on telling me not to move, and make my way over to the locker.

"Say that again, Hebert. Couldn't hear you over all the idiots." People are still yelling and I can feel hands on me, trying to pull me away.

Then the voice in the back of my head twists, for a moment, and a roiling, near-formless cloud of inky black smoke phases through the locker and condenses into Hebert.

Suddenly, there's nothing but dead silence as Hebert looks over her suddenly naked body.

"Huh. Guess I can't use it as well as you can. Anyway, congrats! You managed to push me out of you! Want me to go back in so you can try it out some more?" She beams at me, completely ignoring the people around her in favor of waiting for my response to her badly phrased question.

I snort, pull the jacket off a nearby student, and hand it to her.

"Put that on first, and then we're going to go talk to some very important people."

-

Far away, in a secret lair, a teenager stares intently at a wall.

"I sense... A great disturbance in the lewd force."

A shout comes from the next room over.

"That's not a real thing, Alec!" The teen pouts.

"When you've done as much kinky shit as I have, you get a sense for these things! Mark my words, there's going to be interesting, lewd occurrences soon enough!"

He is hit in the back of the head by a cushion from a couch.


	28. Look at All the Pretty Colors! 2

It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to get Hebert out from the press of people. There's a couple of flashes from cellphones and such, though the teachers crack down on _that_ instantly. It's kind of amusing seeing them scramble around, the shouted questions and demands and even a couple of catcalls. Apparently Hebert has some nice legs. She's too busy giggling and poking me in the chest to respond.

"So, are you feeling better? Less angry-bitchy? I bet you are, you're even smiling! Look at you, smiling! And it's not even because you punched me this time!" Hebert coos, prodding me with her hand. My hand comes up to my face, tracing the edges of my lips- she's right. I am smiling.

Huh. I can't remember the last time I smiled like this. Was the voice really fucking with me that much?

That thought is put aside as we hit the school's main doors. The crowd is behind us, now, restrained by teachers. I reach into my pocket and pull out the PRT phone I carry everywhere. It's a matter of moments to shoot off a quick text to my contact, telling them about a new cape at the school, I have them with me, both our identities are busted, need a van for pick-up; all that stuff. Then I amble over to one of the benches and sit down, leaning back. The phone rings a couple seconds later, of course, but I'm fine with ignoring it.

I'm more distracted thinking about my current state of mind.

I'm far too calm, is the first thing. I should be freaking out, I know. Hebert's got every reason to hate my guts, and it's looking like she's some kind of power copier, which is much higher up on the usefulness ranking than my shadow state. I suppose I'm experienced, so they probably won't want to just toss me into prison. Probably a transfer for me or her, then. I get shipped off to the other side of the country, or she goes over to some big-name city. Besides all of that, is the way I can just quietly consider it, rather than sweating about it or coming up with plans or being worried. I'm not evening thinking about fighting the transfer. I'm certainly thinking of where I'd put in a request to be transferred _to_, see if I can't pull some good out of this crap sandwich, but not outright fighting it. And I think I know why.

Ever so slightly, I ease up on the grip I have on that tiny voice. Even calling it a voice is a bit much; it's a bundle of feelings, of anger and aggression and desire. There's no voice. Touching it makes_me_ think about how nice it would be to solve all my problems with my crossbow. There's no whispering evil or anything like that; it's just feelings.

Feelings I need. I'm being far too passive about this shit. Sitting back and just accepting whatever crap the PRT wants to give me? No way in hell. The day I do that is the day they shoot me with my own damn crossbow; Sophia Hess doesn't back down for _anybody, _and if they want to try, I'll take a bolt and shove it up their-

Woah, and dialing back the aggression and panic there. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but I slowly get to a somewhat balanced level. I immediately start scheming my way into surviving this shitstorm. Speaking of horrible consequences, I can actually get worried now, which means I should check up on-

Yup. She's naked.

-

{{Grass is sooooooft.}}

{IRRELEVANT}

{{Aw, don't be a party pooper. C'mon, you helped me with the creepy voice in Sophia's head, try this out!}}

{REFUSAL}

{{Pleeeeeease? You're already doing stuff you shouldn't be, what's a little inter-dimensional space monster/teenage girl nerve sharing between friends?}}

COMMAND:SHARD:SIPHON:DISCONNECT HOST

{{Oh, shut up. Do you want me to mess around with your connection more?}}

...

{{Good boy. Girl. Alien. Whatever you things are. Now, let's do some stupid advanced science and make you feel what I feel, so you can feel how soft the grass is. Because, wow, this is like the best thing.}}

{...}

{CONNECTION MODIFICATION:START}

-

"Okay, up you go." I grunt as I haul Hebert to her feet. She giggles and sways a little before turning to me, eyes wide.

"I thought grass was the best thing, Sophia." She tells me, nodding seriously. "I was wrong. You are the best thing." Before I can react, the wrist grab I used to pull her up is turned into hand-holding, and she brings it up to her face. She rubs against it with her cheek, eyes glazing over as her smile grows bigger.

"Touching stuff is so great. Siphon agrees." I ignore the nonsensical words and the ongoing molestation of my hand in order to drape the borrowed jacket around her as best I can in this awkward positioning. Looking over at the school itself shows nobody pressed up against the windows, so they're probably all in the gym or something. The parking lot and building obstruct the view of the street, so she should be fine in that area.

I've barely finished getting the coat around her when the PRT van screeches up to the sidewalk, leaving a blackened trail of rubber on the street. The side door opens with a loud slamming noise, and a pair of PRT troopers are out and on either side of me and Hebert in seconds, foam guns very obviously held by their sides as they scan the surrounding area. Miss Militia hops out a bare moment after them, her distinct glowing green weapon in it's default Glock shape, gripped in her hand and pointed at the ground.

"Sophia! We came as soon as why the hell is she naked?" Militia starts out strong, striding towards me before almost stumbling as she registers what, exactly, Hebert is wearing. Which is nothing but a jacket she won't let me freaking zip, damnit!

"Miss Militia, omigod you're here and in your costume! Not that you wouldn't be in your costume, of course, because that'd be stupid and you aren't stupid 'cause you're like the best hero in the bay! Don't tell Armsmaster I said that, though." Hebert beams as she catches sigh of her apparent idol, and I finally regain use of both of my hands. I use the momentary reprieve to finally get the damn jacket zippered up, and Hebert blinks before looking down as she registers she can't use her arms anymore, trapped as they are inside the coat.

"Sooooophiaaaaaa..." She whines, already struggling to get her arms through the sleeves. I put an arm around her back and slowly lead her over to Miss Militia as she does so.

"Basics; Hebert triggers, she's a power modifier and copier. I'm a lot more self-controlled, she used my power in public and accidentally left her clothes behind while revealing that it was my power she used. Why the shock and awe entrance?" I ask, curious. If my-our identities hadn't already been dust in the wind, this would have ruined them beyond repair. Miss Militia blinks, obviously taken aback, though she recovers admirably.

"Your text was the worst possible way to tell us about this. You didn't pick up when the call went through seconds later. The staff of the school confirmed that there had been a new cape revealed before they cold even establish an identity. Worst case scenario, you're a concerned citizen who called the PRT emergency line and got an important hero on the scene in minutes due to your uncle's connections in the organization." Miss Militia rattles off, summarizing up the information.

"I don't have an uncle in the PRT, though. I don't even have an uncle." I protest for a moment, before realization dawns on me. Miss Militia nods. "By the time anyone thought to ask, you would."

"That... Is so badass." Hebert whispers, eyes practically gleaming in hero worship. Silently, I have to agree. Miss Milita turns to Hebert, her iron stance softening, a smile coming to her lips.

"Hello, Taylor. It's nice to meet you, although I wish the circumstances were different. Do you mind coming with us to the Headquarters? We have a van on the way to pick up your parents as well; they'll be there to meet you." Hebert's head bounces back and forth so fast I'm slightly afraid it'll fall off. I can hear one of the PRT soldiers snort, though when I glance at him he's very obviously not looking at us.

We're in the back of the van in less than a minute. The cool leather seats make Taylor flinch as she sits down, which prompts one of the goons to pull out a blanket and offer it to her. She looks at it for a moment before she realizes exactly why it's being offered. With a grateful 'thanks, intimidating armored soldier person!' she takes it and slides it under her. Miss Militia is seated between myself and Hebert, and although she has to fend off a few questions (is it true that you can make anything with your spark thingy? Have you ever tried to make a pan? A pan can be a deadly weapon! Have you ever cooked pancakes in your deadly pan? Does that make them super pancakes?) she eventually nods to the troopers sitting across from us. They team up admirably to distract Taylor, offering tidbits of information about the Headquarters and sharing stories. Miss Militia turns to me.

"Has she always been this... Absentminded?" She murmurs, careful to keep it below normal hearing levels. I whisper back. "No. Her trigger event was pretty bad, so it might be that. Her power also sounds very... Odd. She used a lot of weird terms." I resolutely fight back the blush that threatens to overtake my cheeks, determinedly ignoring the odd look Miss Miltia is giving me. She does go back to Taylor, though, so I count it as a success.

"Taylor, I know this is a bit of an early question for someone who only recently became a cape, but do you know what your power is?" She asks. Taylor turns away from the troopers, abandoning them easily in favor of the famous hero.

"Sure! My power was supposed to be pretty simple, I'd just pick a cape and block their access to the network while taking an access port for myself- ah!" Suddenly, Hebert flinches and clutches at her head, prompting a small flurry of concern from Militia and the troopers. She waves them off, slowly shaking her head.

"No, it's fine. Siphon was just reminding me that I'm not supposed to talk about that. Sorry! He's not going to do it again, because he forgot he was hooked up to my nerves and now he's whining like a little bitch about a tiny headache. Shade is being a buzz kill, though. But yeah, now I mess around with connection ports all I like because Whipped and Bitch-" Taylor breaks off in the middle of her sentence, frowning at space.

"What do you mean? Siphon says Whipped and Bitch! Warrior at least starts with the same letter, but those are totally different! Look, you were just complaining about me saying too much, now you're telling me I'm saying the wrong things. Make up your mind already!" Taylor lapses into muttering, glaring into the air with glazed eyes. Eventually, she finishes up and sighs.

"Shade is sulking because he's not supposed to tell me stuff but he also doesn't want me to call them Whipped and Bitch. Until he stops being hypocritical, they're just going to keep on being called that. So there!" Taylor sticks out her tongue at... Something. "But, yeah, I mess with connection ports and connections, but since that involves a whole bunch of dimensions and some science that would make Einstien shit himself I can't do it when I'm normal, so I go stupid so my brain doesn't break into little pieces." Taylor giggles and makes vague explosion noises with her mouth while waving her fingers around, supposedly emulating the breaking process.

Dead silence through the van.

"...Taylor. Ugh. Would-" Miss Militia looks like she doesn't even know where to start. Finally she decides on a course of action. "Can you reverse the process? Can you make yourself- go back to normal?" Taylor frowns.

"Sure. I guess. But only for you, Miss Militia." She grudgingly admits. "Bye-bye, Shade! It was nice talking to you and violating your connection ports! See you again, sometime?" She finishes. The hopeful grin fades into a scowl as she listens to whatever voice only she can hear.

"Well, fine! If you want to be rude, next time I'll violate you even more! What about that, huh?" Taylor's scowl transforms into a rather mean smirk over the space of a couple of seconds. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Then she collapses, falling backwards into her seat. Miss Militia's mouth is hanging open, one of the PRT troopers is muffling snickers while the other smacks him with her palm. I try to desperately not to think about the fact that it's my power, inside me, that she's talking about having horribly violated.

-

I come awake slowly. It's a long trek out of the darkness of unconsciousness, and the gentle swaying of the car isn't helping.

Wait. Car?

I wake up much faster after that, jolting upwards as I struggle to take in my surroundings. I was in the locker- now I'm in a van with Miss Militia?! What the hell is Sophia doing here?! Are we going to court, is she being punished? The sudden onslaught of hope dies a rather quick death when I realize Sophia isn't so much as cuffed, and she looks perfectly fine with the situation. Beyond which, why is Miss Militia, a cape, alongside the PRT, dealing with this? Even beyond that, I can remember flashes of scenes and words, slowly coming to the surface.

It doesn't help that I'm struggling to think. There's... This cloud, this feeling, hanging around Miss Miltia. Adaptability, unpredictability, determination. It's so strong as to be smothering- through it, I can somewhat feel a similar cloud around Sophia that reeks of power and dominance, though it feels oddly restrained.

And why am I naked?!

The giant metal wolf slamming into the van did not help matters at all.


	29. Look at All the Pretty Colors! 3

I blink.

It seems to take more effort than usual. It's loud, too, but at the same time kind of distant. I'm also hurting, small points of pain prickling a little bit more than the dull, omnipresent ache. Full awareness comes slowly, black splotches swimming across my vision. I'm looking at... The side of a van? The door is open, the sides mangled, and I can see the sky. That doesn't make sense.

Then the memories come rushing back, and suddenly a thrill of panic shoots through me as I recall exactly where I am and what happened. The sharp cracks must be gunshots- I had been riding with Miss Militia! There was no way she'd lose, right?! I just had to make my way out of the van, and then-

The glass I'm laying on creaks dangerously as I attempt to push myself up. I freeze, holding my breath, every muscle locked in place. A couple of seconds later I allow myself to start breathing again, nearly whimpering as the reality of the situation hits me.

I'm mostly naked, inside a PRT van that is on it's side. I was cut up in more than a few places, and likely had a head injury. We'd been attacked by Hookwolf. The Empire villain. I had been left alone in the car, with no-one trying to wake me up or keep me safe. Even the driver was gone. I was completely defenseless, and judging from the gunshots and sirens outside, help wasn't coming anytime soon.

I took several deep breaths, pushing back the terror that was starting to creep in. My shaking hands clenched into fists, squeezing until all of the blood had been pushed out and all that was left was pale white skin stretched over bone.

Fine. If they wanted to leave me, I'd just save myself.

That, of course, was the moment someone chose to bang on the side- roof, of the car. I nearly jump out of skin, a muffled shriek escaping as a quiet squeak.

"Hey! You alright in there?" The voice sounds young, female, and slightly winded. I take a steadying breath, trying to force my heart back under control.

"Y-yeah." I manage to force out, voice breaking before I can even finish the first syllable. My cheeks flush, and I take another breath, struggling for control over my traitorous voice. "I mean, I'm fine! A couple of scratches, but nothing bad!"

"Whew. That's good to hear. You hang on a moment, alright? Seriously, find something to grip. I'm going to get you to safety!" Before I can even start to question how she'll do that, the entire car starts tilting! It groans as it's pushed upwards, rising inches every second as it slowly rights itself. I scramble off of the glass, desperate to keep it from breaking under my weight and spilling me out of the car. I hold on to one of the seats; now that I'm focusing, my head's slowly getting clearer and clearer, and memories are coming back. Most importantly, the feeling of being around Miss Militia. The cloud of heaviness, the feeling of concepts- it's right outside the van. But it isn't Miss Militia's. Hers... Felt more _set_, more entrenched, for lack of a better term. The one outside was barely a fraction of that mental weight, closer to a puffy mass of white on a sunny day than a raincloud.

There weren't really any good terms for it. But, at this point, connecting the dots wasn't hard; the clouds were heroes. I had some kind of power sense- more than that, I could almost reach out and_touch_ the clouds, not with my arms or hands but with my mind. Something tickled in the back of my brain; it wouldn't even be the first time I'd done it.

Before I can attempt to trace that thought back to the source, though, the van finishes righting itself with one last unhappy groan. I'm partially lying on the floor, arms clutched around the base of a seat. Slightly embarrassed by the position, I start to scramble to my knees, even as the driver's side door opens. I push myself around, twisting to look at my savior while trying to keep my bare butt pointed downwards. I'm halfway through a 'Thank-you' when I finally register exactly what I'm looking at.

The girl climbing into the seat huffs slightly as she pulls her robes in after her. She mutters as she rearranges them before she pulls the door shut with a loud shriek of distorted metal, prompting a wince. Then she turns toward me, strands of blonde hair floating through the air. She smiles, one hand coming up to tuck the hair back into place behind her head, even as the van itself starts to lift off the ground.

"Well, that was- why are you naked?" Rune asks.

-

I dodge, moving backwards while shifting to my shadow state, covering two times the ground I would have if I'd been flat-out sprinting. A giant wolf made of metal slams into my former position, it's snarl the sound of thousands of shifting blades grinding together. It flinches back, the head melting into the shoulders and the eyes winking shut as sparks appear where Miss Militia's shots bounce off of it's head. I curse under my breath, wondering when she'll move up to actually using the damn armor-piercing rounds or just skip straight to the explosions. Low caliber bullets are nothing but annoyances to Hookwolf, and it's my life she's putting on the line, here!

The fact that I only have a shitty PRT foam gun isn't helping matters. Projectiles are easy for me to shift into shadow state. Arrows? Barely harder than bringing my clothes along with me. Foam, on the other hand, shifts and expands and doesn't play nice with my powers. Hookwolf doesn't sit still long enough for the foam to have any real effect, cutting off whatever bits I do manage to get on him. This would all be easier if I had my goddamn crossbow; see how much the fucker wants to pounce on me when I can shoot straight through his fucking armor!

I pull back on the anger leaking from the source in the back of my head, pushing away the clouding effects of the invading thoughts. I also immediately drop out of shadow state, nearly fumbling my landing and falling. The cool, collected Sophia doesn't give a single damn about Hookwolf's metallic laughter. She falls back and plans, watching for the next attack as she leads him away from Miss Militia. He bursts into action, going from the still gaze of a predator to a full-on attack in one motion, and suddenly she has to pull on the anger and the itch to attack to phase through a wall, entering an office building. People scream from the back corner as Hookwolf goes through the wall in response, and I have to bite back the instinctive response to yell at them to shut the fuck up and stop drawing attention to themselves. Hookwolf glances at them, and before he can get any funny ideas I grab a- stapler? Really?- and phase it through his head. He flinches back, but less than a second later the wolf head smirks as it spits out a shredded piece of metal.

That doesn't stop me from smirking back as I notice the surface infused with the distinctive gleam of his own metal. Phase-fragging was a bitch when I gave Manton Limit the middle finger. This would all be so much more convenient if I had my goddamn crossbow, of course.

Failing that, I'd settle for less anger, more control over my powers.

I don't know how Hebert did it, but she linked the fucking aggression to my power usage. Either I got angry- and Jesus fuck no wonder I messed up so bad if I felt that angry all the fucking time- or I got turned into mincemeat. I was working fairly well, switching between moments of cold planning and intense aggression, but having even a small break from the anger made it hit like a freight train each time I called it back up. Going from zero to a hundred emotionally is goddamn exhausting, especially when I'm doing it every five seconds. It worked, and there were benefits. I didn't feel the need to go on the attack so goddamn much, and not being angry or afraid or any emotion, really, did fucking wonders for planning.

Hookwolf starts prowling forward, sliding over and through desks with the same ease I'd phase through them. Fucking cheater. I try to kite him towards the entrance- aka the giant fucking hole he made in the front of the office, goddamn- to get some support from Miss Militia, but every time I make a step towards it he takes a step closer to the terrified idiots huddling in the back corner.

Damnit.

"You gonna kill some weak office drones? Is that how you get your kicks these days?" I call out casually, falling back two steps for every one he takes towards me. He snorts.

"Maybe. It sounds like a lot more fun than going back out there and seeing if good old American Gal has a rocket launcher pulled out already." Despite the various other sounds coming from him all being metallic, his voice is rough and decidedly human. I frown as a quick glance over my shoulder shows the approaching wall. I can go through into the next room over.

Or I could take the stairs. I take a breath and drop my powers, and cold Sophia agrees. Hookwolf won't back down from the challenge, and if the drones have even an ounce of brainpower they'll run as soon as they go up a level. She makes a break for the door to the stairwell, and Hookwolf is charging after, not even bothering to flow around the desks, just smashing straight through them. Sophia pulls on a tiny flicker of power and goes through the door without bothering to open it. Less than a second later Hookwolf comes through, also not bothering to open the door. Sophia tenses her legs halfway up the first flight of stairs, and then I'm dropping out of shadow state and another flight upwards as metal spikes pierce the stairs where I was just seconds ago. I back step quickly, barely avoiding the poles that lance through the floor like a hot knife through butter, moving into the main room with another phased lunge even as Hookwolf makes another fucking hole in the floor to pull himself through.

Goddamn. I don't even want to imagine the property damage cost.

Then we're dancing through the desks and occasional pillar, scythes of metal flashing out to try and slice me to ribbons while I try to hem him in with the foam gun. It's not working. The foam gun has a really fucking impressive tank for the mobile version, but it's not going to last me much longer. The piles of foam lingering everywhere are good for me, as they're the only material Hookwolf can't just cut his way through in less than a second, but touching them only makes him leave the top coat of metal behind. There's no way he's stupid enough to be caught between one of the piles and me.

I need a plan. So I switch back to cold Sophia, ducking into a side office and foaming the doorway to make an impromptu barrier. She has less than a second to think before Hookwolf bursts through the goddamn wall fucking again, spears of shiny death rocketing towards her form. She shifts, grabbing ahold of exactly the right amount of power to make my power work optimally, and I dodge to the side, going into the office a room over, already giving up the power and anger for a moment of cold clarity, eyes fixed on the wall waiting for Hookwolf to-

There's a single lance, this time. It's thin, barely wider than a sewing needle, and it glints in the light coming from the glass window as it pierces the wall and flows into my gut. I don't even feel the pain right away, it's so sharp. Just a small pinch, and then I'm desperately trying to grab for enough power to go fully shadow state rather than the pathetic flicking I have now, and I overshoot it. I grab more than I need to.

Adrenaline floods into me like a lightning bolt from God. I go straight through ravening angry and arrive on the other side, a cold kind of hatred and desire to see Hookwolf torn to bloody pieces, even if I have to rip him apart with my bare hands. I phase, and instantly notice how much _easier_ it is. There's no inertia from my dodge forcing me to go in a predictable direction. I simply step to the side, gliding through the air like a wraith. Hookwolf comes through the wall, playing catch-up with his needle lance. He sprints after me, but he's so _slow_. I step back through the wall, almost thoughtlessly dragging my fingers across it as I float through it. A few more steps and I'm in the middle of the office again, slowly, regretfully letting go of the shadow world. Hookwolf is still charging forward, and I imagine I can see something like surprise as he passes through a wall that was solid only seconds ago before it became a shifting, roiling mass of inky darkness. He stumbles, exiting, **(the shadows blink back to normal exactly when I knew they would)** barely catching himself before he falls onto his face. Behind him, the wall now looks like a regular wall, for all intents and purposes.

Except for the spot at the base where a splotch is gleaming silver. On the other side, I have no doubt there's the melting remains of a limb.

Hookwolf pauses, regarding me carefully. He doesn't charge forward recklessly, instead taking the moment to begin circling me.

I giggle, a wide, savage grin pulling at my cheeks. I imagine doing that to the rest of him, separating him piece by piece until there's nothing but a mess of limbs and blood-stained metal left.

I giggle louder.


End file.
